


hoax

by adorn1ng (aswellingstorm)



Series: evermore [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Will Add Tags As We Go, in which the author continues to pick and choose which parts of canon are Allowed, s5 storyline elements set in beast island/exile AU, starts off angsty but gets better i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aswellingstorm/pseuds/adorn1ng
Summary: There’s not a living person in all of Etheria who can recall the last time that Bright Moon held two princesses in the royal family. It was a wholesome sight- there were more celebrations and greater royal hijinks but most importantly, the family had never been so complete. It only made the arrival of Horde Prime and subsequent abduction of both princesses all the more devastating.or;Set after ‘exile’, Hordak and Shadow Weaver are confined in the Kingdom of the Snows, but Horde Prime is still out there, the universe still needs saving, and healing is not always a direct climb to the top.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Series: evermore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177913
Comments: 120
Kudos: 207





	1. win-less fight

The message was just barely received and hardly discernible. Whatever technology it had been sent through was truly rudimentary, pitiful at best. It had been a fair bit of time since Horde Prime had come into contact with such derelict machinery, but he managed to decode the message.

And he would’ve waved it away with a quirk of his brow and a pointed tap of his index finger, had he not been smart enough to take his unriddling one step further by decrypting the carrier of the message and obtaining footage of what had occurred mere moments before it was sent.

The video is fuzzy and lacking in substantial detail, but that was fine. It wasn’t like he had expected much better.

A shadowy figure of black and red hues appears on the screen, activating whatever crude mechanism had been used, sneering as she says, “ _…I’ve always known you to be a disappointment. But I really didn’t think you’d make this so easy_.”

He tilts his head in interest, eyes watching where his defective, pathetic brother stands expectantly as the woman inserts…some sort of _sword_ into the machine. Only for the technology to reject it, to sputter and crackle uselessly as the sword is heaved onto the ground. The work of some sort of magic, he’s certain.

Once fallen, the sword changes shape into some ordinary, black and silver weapon. The woman-a Magicat, if he’s correct, laughs from her constraints on the ground.

“ _You really thought I believed you? Really thought I was going to fall for your crap again? Betray the only people who ever gave a shit about me? I told you—you’re not getting Adora. And that includes She-Ra_.”

Hm. Powerful _and_ brazen.

As soon as the thought manifests itself in his mind, his brethren begin discerning the coordinates that the message was transmitted from.

Horde Prime zooms in on the girl with interest as she continues to fight against her restraints in the playback. Whispering to himself, he asks, “And who… might you be?”

* * *

“Catra!”

Adora’s voice is booming and filled with excitement as she picks up her girlfriend in a tight embrace.

“ _Agh!_ Put me down!” Is the shriek she receives in response, but Catra’s squirms are half-hearted at best.

“No,” Adora refuses with her voice muffled by where her face is buried in Catra’s shoulder, tightening her hold, “Missed you.”

Change is happening. Not just in Bright Moon, but all of Etheria. The air feels cleaner and the sky seems brighter somehow. Adora tried to explain this to Bow on their way back from a simple supply drop off in Plumeria, only for him to cast her a knowing smile and say “Maybe it’s because the war is over now. Or maybe… it’s just because _someone_ is in love.”

And, so what if it’s true? So what if Adora is in love with her best friend? After years of not being able to much as look at Catra for more than ten seconds without a crushing feeling of guilt and paranoia, only for those moments to end by having to treat Catra as her enemy and then nearly losing Catra more than once, Adora feels like she’s allowed to just be _happy_.

It’s been a few months since the Horde was defeated, since Catra told her that she loved her and that happiness has yet to fade. Adora would’ve just been happy to have Catra back, but the fact that Catra is her _girlfriend_ now? It’s more than she ever could’ve asked for. It was something she didn’t even know would be possible to have.

“C’mon, you were only gone for like a _day!_ ” Catra reminds her, but Adora knows her-knows the smile in her voice, can hear her heart beating excitedly in her chest at the attention.

It was a _long_ day. It had been fun to visit Perfuma in Plumeria, especially since the princess wouldn’t be able to make the Alliance meeting today. It wasn’t super mandatory for all of the princesses to attend every meeting now, not when rebuilding their own kingdoms took precedence.

But _still_. Fun or not, both her and Bow had wished that their girlfriends could come along. Apparently, Catra signing those papers was more than just a formality, she had to do _real_ princess work. Work that not even Adora knew about despite her title as She-Ra, because…there was no kingdom for She-Ra to govern.

Catra was good at it though. She seemed to pick up the basics of political relations and diplomacy with a greater ease than Glimmer had, much to her chagrin. It was fun to watch Catra lead, now that Catra wasn’t leading something that directly sought the Rebellion’s demise.

Adora presses a kiss to her neck with a smile and swings her a bit in defiance, “Admit it, you missed me too!”

“Are you two done yet?” Glimmer huffs from where she’s standing next to Bow. A few members of the Rebellion regard the scene with fondness.

Adora thinks they might just need a new name. There is nothing for them to rebel against now. It’s all just a bunch of boring rebuilding and surveying and reconstructing and things that separate her and Catra for an agonizingly long day.

Maybe she’ll pitch it at their next meeting. Which should be in… _now_ , actually, hence Glimmer’s impatience.

Embarrassed at the extremely public display of affection, Catra continues to squirm in her arms as Adora spins them around to face Glimmer and Bow—who is _not_ helping Glimmer by cooing over how cute the reunion is.

Adora gives her a guilty smile as Catra opts for trying to shove herself out of Adora’s arms. Finally, Adora relents and carefully lets Catra slide out of her hold, dropping her hands to her sides. Glimmer doesn’t look any more pleased than before, but Adora knows for a fact that Bow got extra time to greet her because he basically ran off of Mara’s ship the second it landed. So, really, it wasn’t _fair_ that they got more time.

Adora tells Glimmer as much with a pout and gets waved away with a telling blush. Meanwhile, Catra stares at her expectantly—apparently not wanting or expecting Adora to withdraw _all_ physical contact, so Adora grabs her hand as they head into the meeting room. “Hm, guess you did miss me then?” She teases.

“My hands are just cold,” It’s an obvious lie that comes to Catra with an unconcealable smile. It makes Adora roll her eyes affectionately—this is just how Catra _is_. She never quite likes to admit to missing her, or anyone to Adora’s knowledge. Ever since they were kids it had been like this, if they were separated Catra would act like it didn’t bother her even if it clearly had. Even when they were cadets and there was that gas leak in their barracks that led to everyone being evacuated and sleeping in different quarters for a week. Catra had been in a terrible mood but would never admit it was because she missed Adora.

Somethings don’t change and Adora is fine with that. Because even if Catra doesn’t say it, she most certainly shows it. Besides, Catra says plenty of other things and doesn’t leave Adora guessing on where they stand in their relationship anymore. She can tell Adora if she needs a moment to herself or if she’s upset about something and Adora is always just…amazed at how far they’ve come.

“What are you smiling for?” Catra bumps their shoulders together with a smug glance.

The answer to that question is-a lot, actually. Adora has a lot to be happy for; she’s happy to be back in Bright Moon and even happier that Catra won’t have to stick around for any perfunctory meetings and can come _with_ her and Bow next time. Even if Catra will resign herself to sitting in the shade and simply watching while Adora does the heavy lifting.

Angella and Micah notice their intertwined hands, the way their shoulders are brushing and how they position their chairs so closely when they sit down that they might as well be on top of each other—their knowing glance makes Catra blush.

“Don’t,” she hisses at them preemptively.

Adora snickers when Micah scoffs, “Don’t what? We didn’t say anything!”

“Don’t do what you were _thinking_ about doing,” Catra requests haughtily.

“And what is it that were we thinking about, again?” Angella asks, turning to Micah, “How lovesick our daughter was without Adora here?—”

“Lovesick?” Adora repeats with a bright smile, eyeing Catra who is now _bright red_.

“Hm, sounds about right,” Micah agrees, “We were actually worried something was wrong, given how much Catra was moping around yesterday. But she jumped right out of bed when I told her your ship was due back a bit earlier.”

Catra looks dangerously close to sliding off of her chair and sinking underneath the table to escape their teasing. And it’s just so _cute_ and _funny_ and Adora can see past the façade and see how happy Catra genuinely is. She thinks her heart might just actually burst.

“Did those adoption papers come with a 180-day warranty or something?” Catra grumbles.

“Afraid not,” Angella answers instantly, “As a matter of fact, I’ve met with of our architects, they think they might be able to put a mosaic of them in the Grand Hall somewhere.”

“Absolutely not _!_ ” Catra protests sitting up straight with abject horror, much to Micah and Adora’s amusement. When Catra picks up on the sound of Glimmer giggling she wholeheartedly points to her, “And what about _her_? Is anyone gonna talk about how mopey and annoying she was without Arrow Boy?”

“Hey,” Bow frowns, “I thought we were past that!”

Catra shoots him a blank stare, like she’s about to repeat the nickname just to bother him when the doors of the war room fling open. Scorpia and Entrapta are standing in their wake looking winded—well, Scorpia at least. Entrapta looks like she was just dragged along.

Adora’s heart gives an involuntarily lurch, a ghost of dread pulling at the back of her mind. The two had spent the last few days in the Fright Zone, exploring some of the abandoned tech that Hordak had taken from Beast Island. As anticipated, it must not have taken Entrapta long to find something of importance to the Rebellion.

They were expecting …something interesting, Adora supposes. Like a ‘here is something wild and insane that Hordak was planning and isn’t it a good thing we were able to stop him’? But nothing bad. Nothing crazy important. Nothing to warrant the pinched look of worry on Scorpia’s face.

“Everyone…we have news and- _whooh_ boy it is a _doozy_ ,” She says in between breaths.

Scorpia and Entrapta weren’t supposed to find something that shattered their beliefs entirely, something so substantial and concerning that proved the war was far from over.

* * *

Catra is livid.

Of course Etheria has been stuck orbiting around some stupid shadow dimension for like a thousand years. Of course _that_ was the only thing protecting them from an earlier-invasion of Horde fucking Prime. That’s why stupid Hordak needed the stupid Sword of Protection to get his message through the portal.

Which, of course, because Catra can’t do anything right, fucking worked somehow.

_Okay_ -Catra takes a breath, reminding herself that she did stop Hordak’s full-scale portal plans. She did not _fail_. Hordak just got super fucking lucky that whatever magic Catra had, no matter how meager compared to the full might of She-Ra, somehow was enough for a message to barely break through.

If it weren’t for her, they’d be in a _way_ worse situation right now. Everything they’re doing right now is simply precautionary, according to Micah at least.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Entrapta was able to find a small tear-don’t ask Catra how the hell that’s even possible- in whatever stupid starless ozone layer they’re surrounded by. This tear would, hypothetically, be enough for Horde Prime to barrel his enormous army through.

Which, of course that dumb asshole is going to do because his stupid bastard brother is here and that was the plan all along. It sends a shiver down her spine. She isn’t eager to meet _any_ family member of Hordak.

But now everyone is being stupid and nobody is listening to her and she hasn’t felt this angry since…god, she can’t even remember when.

Because, on top of all of this absolute bullshit, it turns out that they’ve been sitting on an ancient superweapon—the _Heart of Etheria_ , apparently. Yeah, that’s right, it turns out this whole planet can become some sort of mega weapon. And if that sounds bad, it’s just because it _is_ bad.

Anything that can yield that much power has to be bad. Especially since it requires, oh-Catra doesn’t know, just for her girlfriend and all of her friends to put themselves in a stupid amount of danger just to power it up. They found out they have to do some ridiculous ‘restore balance to all of Etheria’ bullshit after Adora visited Light Hope—who Catra still doesn’t care much for, by the way.

But that was all fine or whatever. Because ultimately they agreed they wouldn’t do it. They would sit on it, since there was no real imminent threat just yet. Brainstorm and come up with a different idea that didn’t involve powering an ancient superweapon that none of them actually knew how to use.

At least that's what Catra thought. Until Entrapta was able to detect Prime’s presence looming closer, predicting only a matter of a day or so until he arrived. And of course, because Catra has surrounded herself with complete and total idiots, they just ran headfirst into activating the Heart.

Spearheading the stupid campaign was fucking _Glimmer_. Catra wanted to throttle her. And Catra didn’t know what the Alliance was like before she joined, before Micah returned, but from what she gathered it was a lot of Angella calling the shots and arguing with Glimmer who desperately _wanted_ to call the shots.

But now things were changing, Glimmer was older and more emboldened now. Angella didn’t like the idea almost as much as Catra, but Micah was a bit more open to it—and that wiggle room was just enough for Glimmer to use the urgency of the situation to her advantage. 

Adora was hesitant at first, but then begged Catra to understand that it was what had to be done. Bow still didn’t think it was a _great_ idea but didn’t stop it because he’s a total doormat with his girlfriend, the rest of the princesses seemed fine with it-hell even Scorpia had sided with Glimmer too. Catra didn’t really get a say because she wasn’t connected to a stupid runestone.

_Sorry I never needed to get my power from a fucking magical rock._

Everything happened so quickly after that. They ran off to go reconnect her with the Black Garnet while Catra stayed behind, helplessly on Bright Moon.

Until, that is, Micah and Entrapta had used two completely different pathways to arrive to the same conclusion that Catra had already been at: activating the Heart is a godawful idea. They found her in a rush with Micah trying to explain with his weird, sorcerer knowledge while Entrapta interspersed all of the science-y reasons on why it was a horrible plan that could get them all seriously hurt before they ran off. If anything, Catra was more irritated and disoriented in their wake. She didn’t need some stupid old scroll or data-based research to tell her that the Heart was dangerous.

But it seems like her intuition alone hadn’t been enough to get anyone to believe her. The darkest parts of her, the ones that were infuriatingly resilient and difficult to stomp out, lingered potently in the recesses of her mind and wondered if it was because she _had_ failed.

“I mean, sure, maybe I stopped Hordak from fully opening that portal but if I never used my magic in the first place, or at least less of it, then maybe the message would’ve never gotten through! And I don’t know how that fucking—”

“ _Language.”_

“I don’t know how that… _tear_ in the ozone happened, but I’m sure it was my fault somehow! And now no one would just listen to me about the Heart because I’m the reason the message got sent in the first place.”

Everyone left Bright Moon except for Angella, who has never been onboard with the plan. Because Angella, Queen Angella of Bright Moon, is the only one with fucking _sense_ around here, Catra has come to realize.

_You get it from your mother_ , Micah had joked to her a few weeks ago. It was ridiculous, she laughed at the time, because there were no shared genetics there, obviously. But it was now abundantly clear that Angella and Catra were the only ones spearheading the coalition for logic and reason.

“Catra,” Angella sighed heavily, placing a hand on Catra’s hunched shoulders and keeping it there even when Catra turns away. “I know you have quite the pension for blaming yourself and I do appreciate how you’ve _told me_ this instead of harboring it silently and acting on it recklessly later…”

Catra’s hand twitches at that. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to give voice to the thoughts that she shouldn’t even be having in case that somehow made them more real. But it was just her and Angella here, and she’s never been great at keeping things from her. Micah had more or less snuck under her defenses, she didn’t even realize she opened up to him until after it already happened. But something about Angella…makes her actually want to open up.

“But I’m afraid it’s simply not possible.” Angella explains, “If it had been anyone other than you, the situation would have ended far worse. Think about it, had they gotten their hands on the true sword, the portal would’ve been opened entirely. And even if they couldn’t get the sword, if your magic had been enough to open the portal just a bit, Shadow Weaver’s surely would’ve sufficed as well. It wouldn’t have taken them very long to figure that out—”

“Don’t know about that. They’re kind of stupid,” Catra offers with a small smile. She can say that now. Now that they’re far away and can’t hurt her.

Angella returns it, “You know what I mean. They would’ve found some other way to try to open the portal. And if had been anyone other than you, they wouldn’t have stopped at just sending the message through. You’ve given us our best shot at getting ahead.”

Catra turns to face her at that, feeling just the slightest bit better and shoulders feeling a bit less heavy. She even allows herself to feel comforted by the hand that reaches out to cup her face.

But then… _then_ the Heart gets activated. Catra, realistically, should have no way of knowing if or when it happens, but suddenly Angella’s hand falls. She lets out an alarming noise of pain before falling to the ground, arms wrapped protectively around herself and covered with symbols that Catra can’t recognize.

“Angella?” Catra cries, leaning onto the ground next to her as she continues to cry out in pain.

“Stay back,” Angella grits through her teeth. “This power…is unpredictable…”

“Angella!” Catra ignores her and reaches out, trying to think of something, anything to do to help.

Magic rolls off of the Queen in waves, her eyes lit up a bright white. She shoves Catra away, voice intense and booming with pain, “I said, stay back!”

Catra falls backward, a great few feet away from Angella, eyes widened in terror. She doesn’t even register the pain of falling to the ground, so transfixed on the bright lights and colors that fill the room, the inescapable feeling of helplessness…

A memory bubbles to the surface. No matter how hard Catra tries to shove it down or how desperately she tries to focus on the pinks and pastels of the room that are wildly different from the dark reds and greys of a devil she knows too well, she can’t. Angella is just trying to protect her. It’s different. It’s so different. But suddenly it isn’t Angella she sees crouched on the floor in agony in front of her, it’s Shadow Weaver.

**_“Now go.”_** Dark and towering with power above her, her voice is just as loud as ever before. Catra closes her eyes, brings her hands to her ears, anything to try to shove the memory out of her mind, but it’s futile. It’ll replay itself whether her eyes are open or not—she sees Shadow Weaver advance toward her, **_“I said go!”_**

Terror beats like an old pattern in her veins. She feels like she might as well be back in the Fright Zone again, and _god dammit_ this is why she never goes back with Scorpia or Entrapta. She has no idea why they always do or how it’s so fucking easy for them. The urge to run overpowers her, but her legs feel frozen and her breaths come out staggered and irregular. Stupid. This is all so stupid and _no one listened to her-_

“…Catra?” She hears a voice call out to her and she wrenches her eyes open. She’s not sure how much time has passed, but the lights are gone, whatever wave of magic that was draining Angella has dissipated. She sits up straight, unaware of when she had even folded herself so tightly up against the wall.

Her legs feel weak when she stands, which is ridiculous-she didn’t even do anything. But she feels…weirdly worn out. Her heart is still hammering wildly, but Angella seems to be…better now. She’s still hunched over on the floor, eyes scanning the room for Catra and but not the unnatural white hue they just were. Catra crosses the room and runs over to her.

“Are you alright?” Angella asks immediately as Catra inspects her face and arms—the writing is gone.

“Pft,” Catra scoffs, “I’m not the one who was just used to fire an ancient super weapon, am I?”

This is Angella. This is Angella who is real and in front of her and needs her help right now—Catra has to shove any other thoughts aside. She helps her stand, allows her to lean on her for support even though she still feels a pulsing desire to run. But Angella needs her right now.

“It didn’t work,” Angella reports through labored breaths. Catra doesn’t question how she’s able to tell, she’s just _connected_ to it. “Adora was able to stop it. For a great price I fear.”

“A great price?” Catra echoes, mind jumping to the worst possible scenario.

“She’s alright. Everyone is alright. But it didn’t work,” Angella repeats, skin looking grey and unhealthy. That thing _really_ drained the life out of her and it makes Catra’s skin crawl. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No. Yeah. I’m fine,” The words come out so quickly, Catra isn’t sure if she’s spoken them in the correct order. Or if they’re a lie. Angella didn’t hurt her. Didn’t try to, at least. She was trying to protect her. It’s not her fault that Catra’s stupid brain just does this—

Once Angella seems a bit steadier on her feet, Catra moves to pull away. She’s trying to escape detection from the Queen, but it’s too late, “Catra…I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I feared my power was out of my control and didn’t want to hurt you.”

Catra shakes her head indignantly, backing up and putting some space between them, “What? I’m not a _child_. You don’t scare me. Get real.” She crosses her arms, hating the way her voice shakes. “I’m fine. I’m just. Worried about everyone else.”

Angella opens her mouth to argue, but Seahawk reappears carrying Mermista and pulls away her attention. Catra takes the distraction as an opportunity to slip away, to collect her thoughts before more people reappear. She climbs up to her usual place on the roof and feels a familiar wave of anger cover her like a blanket.

She watches everyone come back in dribs and drabs. Judging by the bright, shining stars in the sky, whatever their plan was, clearly it put them in a worse position than ever before. There wasn’t just a small opening for Horde Prime to force his way through. They were out in the open now. Sitting ducks. Living evidence of their failure.

When Scorpia comes back on a loaner skiff with Perfuma and Frosta, her eyes easily find Catra, like she knew exactly where to look. Scorpia looks worse for the wear, tired and drained just like Angella. But she gives Catra a small wave and hopeful smile, as if that somehow makes it okay. Catra snarls in response, clutching her fist and purposely ignoring her.

Glimmer and Scorpia _snuck away_ while she was trying to stop Adora, which had only left Catra feeling powerless.

Adora didn’t listen to her. Adora listened to _Glimmer_ instead. And everything happened so fast-so _chaotically_ , that next thing Catra knew was by herself in Bright Moon, terrified of the woman who’s supposed to be her mother, watching helplessly as all of the power drains out of her. With no idea about what the hell is happening or what to do about it.

She’s so…mad she can’t think straight. She doesn’t even know who to blame. Everyone is complicit. Either they supported Glimmer or let it happen. She even blames herself, for not being…for not being able to convince anyone to listen. To stay.

She knows the only person she can’t blame is Angella. But even she’s hard to think about. Between feeling guilty for equating her to Shadow Weaver, even internally, to watching her suffer…it only makes Catra feel worse.

When she sees Adora return, she slides down the roof and lands gracefully in the courtyard below despite her seething anger. She’s ready to give Adora a piece of her mind. She doesn’t care if it’s in front of everyone. Why should she? No one cared to listen to her before and now everyone is hurt and she was helpless to do a damn thing about it. She crosses her arms as Adora approaches, head hung and eyes tired in a way that only fuels her anger.

Micah walks past her first, Entrapta silently at his side. “Catra, don’t—”

“Save it,” Catra spits out, looking at him with absolute fire in her eyes. “Your _wife_ collapsed today so maybe you should go worry about her.”

Your _wife_. Catra chose the word carefully. It distances herself from him, the both of them. He recognizes that with a flash of hurt but nods, understanding that he can’t say or do anything right now that will lessen Catra’s fury.

Her nails dig into the flesh of her arm when Adora drags herself up to her. She looks down , refusing to look Adora in the eye. She won’t break the silence, not when Adora has some explaining to do—

“She-Ra’s gone,” Adora announces tearfully. It’s enough to grab Catra’s attention. Enough to put that anger and rage on a temporary pause. Catra looks up, sees the broken sword in Adora’s hand, but more importantly sees the heartbreak and pain in Adora’s eyes. She sees _Adora_. Exhausted and shaking with the restraint to keep herself from reaching out for Catra.

Adora knows it was wrong, knows Catra is upset with her. Catra isn’t sure if she’s angrier at Adora or at for herself for the way that anger fades when she sees Adora like this. But Catra can’t stand it. Can’t stand to see Adora looking so broken in front of her.

Adora intakes a sharp breath when Catra grabs her and pulls her forward, into her arms. She’s rigid for a moment, clearly surprised and having expected a different reaction entirely. But Catra’s embrace is warm and safe. Even if Catra is upset, she knows now isn’t the time for that. Adora lets herself relax against her, not too terribly surprised when tears follow.

Maybe there was another time, another place where Catra would’ve shoved Adora away. Would’ve focused on her own pain and anger and stalked off to let Adora fester in her own. While those feelings are still there, Catra can’t just let Adora agonize over the weight of the day, the loss of She-Ra by herself.

They don’t talk much for the rest of the night. Catra leads them to Adora’s— _their_ room, and holds Adora tightly—only breaking apart briefly to actually get into the bed. Even then, Adora looks fearful, like Catra is about to change her mind and leave.

“I don’t get why you’re not yelling at me,” Adora confesses wetly, “You…looked so angry.”

“Shut up Adora,” Catra shakes her head, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the bed. She expects to pull Adora back into her chest, but Adora is the one who grabs her first. Distantly, Catra knows why. Knows that Adora would probably rather be held, but things feel…fragile right now. Adora is probably spiraling in her head, probably worried that Catra will up and leave like she had the night of Micah’s celebration. It’s not something that comes up often, but when Adora is insistent on holding instead of being held, Catra doesn’t press it.

Still, even with how tightly she’s holding Catra, Adora still asks, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah,” Catra confirms patiently.

“Can we talk?”

“Not right now,” Catra shakes her head, “But later.”

It’s not the answer Adora is hoping for, but Catra can’t talk to her when she’s like this. When she’s so hurt and Catra feels a compulsion to do anything to make it better. It’s not fair to her to just let Adora get away with…everything that happened today. She owes it to both of them—they both owe it to each other, really, to talk about this in the morning.

Adora accepts this much. Catra can feel her nod, feel the vibrations in her chest as she says, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Catra closes her eyes. Wills herself to fall asleep, to think about anything other than the image of Angella collapsed on the ground, the ensuing flashbacks of Shadow Weaver, the fear that Adora wouldn’t come back…She can’t give Adora forgiveness yet. But she knows that isn’t exactly what Adora is asking for right now, either. So instead she offers, “I’m here.”

* * *

The next morning, there is a battle in Catra’s brain. A war between two parts of herself: the part that feels guilty and ashamed for feeling so angry when everyone left and the part of her that feels justification in her anger, that wishes they had just listened to her. That her words would’ve been enough for them. For Adora.

The only point of clarity she has is her resolution that she shouldn’t still feel this way. She should be past these feelings of rage and hurt and betrayal, shouldn’t she? How on earth could she feel _jealous_ that Adora had listened to Glimmer instead of her? Adora is dating _her_. Adora loves _her_. And although Catra would never admit it out loud, Glimmer is like a sister to her. Who is very much in love with someone _else_. 

She isn’t by herself anymore, either. It isn’t just her clinging to Adora like a lifeline in the darkness of the Fright Zone. She has Micah and Angella and the rest Alliance. But…that’s what makes everything feel worse. She feels a bit spurned by everyone. Not just Adora. She can’t fight that petulant urge for someone to just tell her that she was right and everyone else was wrong for not listening to her.

Micah looks at her with remiss before the Alliance meeting begins, says some bullshit about how they were doing the best they could with the information they had. It’s just his pathetic attempt at trying to save face for his daughter—

_No. Stop_. She has to remind herself of everything Micah has done for her. Of how far they’ve come. Of every time he could’ve picked Glimmer over her but didn’t. 

The conflict grows within her, adding to her irritability. Unsure of what to feel and how to feel it—and if feeling it makes her a bad person or throws away any progress she’s made.

She’s just…she’s not supposed to feel like she doesn’t _matter_ anymore. But how can any of what she feels matter now, in the face of unspeakable danger and imminent doom?

Arms crossed and exuding an attitude of _don’t talk to me_ , she ignores all pointed stares from Scorpia and the empty seat next to her. She especially ignores all of the kicked puppy glances from Glimmer. Bow is actually pissing her off the least, so she takes a seat next to him.

“Shut up,” She grumbles at him before he even has the chance to say anything.

“I’m not happy about this either, Catra,” Bow points out. Catra looks to him, notices that he _also_ elected not to sit near Glimmer. She’s never seen him look so…she can’t really define it. But she didn’t know the human male embodiment of sunshine and optimism could look so…glum.

He’d also been pretty reticent about the whole plan, if she recalls correctly. She thinks she respects him a little bit more. At least they can commiserate about their ridiculous girlfriends together.

The meeting proceeds and she elects to sit in silence. Partially because she doesn’t know what to offer that could even remotely resemble anything useful, partially because she stubbornly doesn’t want to offer any ideas. They didn’t care to listen to her before, why should now be any different?

“Isn’t it possible that Horde Prime could just be coming here to get his brother?” Perfuma proposes, because it seems like everyone else is having a hard time with coming up with ideas too. It’s not just Catra. “And in that case…shouldn’t we just…let him?”

Entrapta’s face falters at that and Catra rolls her eyes. She’s not touching that with a ten foot pole.

“Um. And what do you think will happen once he gets Hordak, and Hordak tells him about how we’ve been keeping him prisoner for the last six months?” Thankfully Catra doesn’t need to say it, Mermista is also capable of shooting down ridiculous ideas. “And then they’re both super pissed, and we don’t have She-Ra _or_ the Heart of Etheria to defend ourselves?”

_You’d have She-Ra if you never used the Heart to begin with_. Catra wants to say, but she bites her tongue.

“Okay, why don’t we take a ten minute— _five_ minute breather,” Angella suggests, “Entrapta, would it be possible to get an updated estimate on Prime’s anticipated arrival?”

The group breaks out at that, but not many people go anywhere. Everyone is upset with everyone it seems. 

_Good._

Personally, Catra’s had enough. She’s not going to stick around and just stare blankly at the ground for five minutes.

“Catra!” Adora calls after her and honestly, what did she expect?

Things are still…tense. They haven’t really spoken. Not since they fell asleep intertwined together. Adora had eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion while Catra was so worried about what could’ve happened-or what is about to happen that she didn’t get much sleep. She had been tempted to wriggle out of Adora’s grasp and wander around the castle, perhaps go up to the spire and see the stars again, but…she couldn’t leave Adora to wake up by herself when she was already in such a vulnerable state.

That would just be cruel.

But they didn’t speak in the morning. Adora tried, Catra told her they’d be late for the meeting and reminded her that they should talk later. Admittedly, she was just delaying the inevitable but still…she didn’t think that _later_ would mean in the five minute break they have.

She heaves a great sigh. Remembering to take deep breaths, to try to not let the anger overpower her, to be better than the person she used to be. She can’t be that angry, spiteful bruise anymore. She has to be better.

“Please, Catra,” Adora grabs her hand, voice urgent, “I know you’re mad but-“

_Mad?_ No, Catra isn’t mad. She’s not mad, she’s not letting herself be _mad_ right now, she’s working so hard to not be mad and it’s not fair for Adora to just accuse her of being mad.

“I’m not mad,” Catra refutes indignantly.

Adora eyes her skeptically, but doesn’t challenge her, “Okay. Then can we talk, please?”

“What is there to talk about?” Crossing her arms, she turns around to face Adora.

“Stop acting like this,” Adora narrows her eyes, “Like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t care.”

“Oh? _I’m_ the one who’s acting like she doesn’t care?” Catra scoffs, “You’re the one who ignored me! You left me, remember? You listened to Glimmer over me-“

“You heard Micah! It was our best option with the information we had.”

“Don’t bring him into this,” Catra snaps, more venom in her tone than she intends. There’s a line there that can’t be crossed. Adora doesn’t get to use Micah against her.

“What, so it’s all _my_ fault that this happened?” Adora asks in disbelief. “I’m not the only one who was involved!”

“Trust me, I know,” Catra glowers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that everybody left, Adora! Everyone except for Angella-who, by the way, got possessed by whatever that weird shit was yesterday and I had to just stand there and _watch_ because I couldn’t do anything!” Catra rants, “She was hurt and I couldn’t help her-and if that’s what happened to her just because she was connected to the Moonstone, I don’t even _want_ to know what happened to you yesterday when you tried to stop it!”

Adora’s eyes flash in guilt and it’s all the confirmation Catra needs.

“All because you just had to listen to your best friend Glimmer,” Catra just can’t stop herself from saying, feeling all of the anger build to a blinding point. But the fact that she came so close to _losing_ Adora because of Glimmer irks her beyond compare.

“How can you say that?” Adora looks truly hurt.

“Because it’s what you always do, and you expect me to just be waiting to pick up the pieces when it all goes to shit-“

“That is _not_ true!” Adora yells, “Do you honestly believe that? After everything?”

“Well, that's how this works, doesn’t it?” Catra matches her tone. All of that anger and confusion comes bubbling to the surface and ripping open old wounds. “You get to just go off and do whatever you want with your friends, you can blow me off and leave me behind and put yourself in danger and that’s fine, right? Because you think I’ll just be waiting for you when you come back? Because that’s all I am to you, just your lousy sidekick—”

“Seriously? This again? What more do I have to do to _prove_ that’s not true?” Adora demands, “I don’t get why you’re acting like this, I thought we were past this, Catra!”

“You almost _died_ because you trusted Glimmer over me!” Catra says, “Did you even care to think about me at all?”

“That’s not fair,” Adora shakes her head, “That’s not what this is, I had to protect everyone.”

“You never would’ve had to if you just listened to me in the first place! Whatever happened to us figuring things out ‘together’?” Catra sneers, “You know what, Adora? Fine. You’re right. It’s not _your_ fault. It’s mine. Because I should’ve known you’d choose her over me. It’s what you always do.”

Adora looks like Catra might as well have slapped her across the face. The words burn Catra’s stomach, she knows they’re not entirely seeded in truth, they’re a deflection of the real issue-

Micah pokes his head out into the hallway, glancing carefully between the two of them. The intensity of the moment is shattered when he says, “We’re about to get started again.”

They both nod and he turns, closing the door behind him to give them another moment of privacy.

It’s silent and it’s crushing.

“Is that what you really think of me? Of us?” Adora asks, gesturing to the space between them.

Truthfully, Catra doesn’t want to think that. She’s mad at herself for even bringing it up. Adora’s right. She’s supposed to be past this. Supposed to be better. And maybe Adora made the right call by listening to Glimmer instead, because clearly Catra is just as angry and selfish as she’s always been.

“We should get back inside,” Catra responds with a shake of her head. Like always, she just should’ve kept her mouth shut.

“But I’m not done talking about this,” Adora frowns.

“Yeah, well, I am,” Catra turns to the door, not before delivering one final blow, “Besides, isn’t saving the universe what matters most to you?”

* * *

Catra knows she was wrong. But it doesn’t feel fair for her to be wrong in this. She isn’t the one who activated the super weapon or was reckless or just _left_ —why can’t she be angry about those things? Why is she in the wrong because she’s angry? Is she just supposed to take everyone else’s crap? Do her own feelings not matter _that_ much?

They haven’t reached a conclusion on what to do. Micah is in Mystacor searching for some fix-all solution that Catra is convinced doesn’t exist. Angella is—wherever Angella is. Catra can’t get that vision of her out of her mind, the way she hissed through gritted teeth for Catra to stay back.

It’s activated a fear within her that Catra hoped she had buried and taken care of. The truth is that Angella couldn’t be _further_ from Shadow Weaver but…whatever. Her mind just _went_ there and she didn’t want it to, she knows Angella doesn’t deserve to be compared to that monster but…it just…ugh _._ She couldn’t control any of it. The echoing words or ghosts of feelings that threaten to overcome her.

She’s in her room for the first time in what feels like forever. Seriously, she should probably dust in here or something, she’s already sneezed about three times. She effectively commandeered Adora’s room and made it into her own, but she needs time to herself right now. She doesn’t know how to feel, much less actually talk to Adora. She basically ran out of the Rebellion meeting, ignoring concerned looks or the way tried Scorpia to follow after her.

She’s pretty unhappy with Scorpia. It used to annoy her how Scorpia would label them as best friends or whatever, but…Scorpia kind of _is_ her best friend. Now that it doesn’t feel forced, now that they can work or hang out together without the threat of looming failure dangling over their heads, Catra can admit that Scorpia is nice to have around. She’s positive to a fault, funny whether or not she tries to be, but most importantly Scorpia is loyal.

Or _was._ Until she also opted to follow Glimmer’s lead instead. None of this would’ve happened if Scorpia didn’t do some stupid weird bonding connection thing with the Black Garnet. Or if Glimmer didn’t _convince_ her to.

The reality is that so many things went wrong. Catra doesn’t know who to blame or where to direct her anger, so she just turns it towards herself. That way it’s a little easier to control. She can be angry and upset internally. She’s capable of handling it herself, and it’s not like it’s possible for her to scare herself off with her own anger.

She’s steeped in deep thought, standing on the balcony and ignoring the presence of those stupid ass stars when Glimmer appears in the bedroom.

Catra nearly jumps out of her skin. Glimmer has some fucking audacity to even show herself right now—much less by herself. Without Bow or Adora to intervene and hold Catra back if necessary.

Which, judging by the way she feels her blood pressure spike at the sight of Glimmer, looking sad and guilty, Catra feels will be _absolutely_ necessary.

“What do you want?” Catra hisses, feeling her fur stand on edge.

“Catra, can we talk?” Glimmer asks, trying her best to give her what she assumes are _pleading_ eyes.

“If I say no, will you go away?” If Glimmer really cared about respecting Catra’s boundaries she would’ve knocked on the door at least. Clearly they’re going to have a conversation whether Catra wants one or not.

“You shouldn’t be mad at Adora,” Glimmer demands, “You should be mad at me.”

“Yeah, well, congrats. I’m mad at you too,” Catra narrows her eyes.

“She’s really upset. She thinks you hate her or are going to break up with her which is ridiculous,” Glimmer rants, “Just go talk to her. I tried to but…”

Catra isn’t going to go talk to Adora. Not until she can sort out all of her…feelings. But she does raise her eyebrow in question at Glimmer and her hesitation, “But what?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me. Neither does Bow. Or anyone,” Glimmer sighs, biting her bottom lip like she just might cry. Part of Catra feels a little bit validated by that. Catra feels alone right now—either by her own design or by way of the fact everyone straight up refused to listen to her yesterday. But at least Glimmer is just as miserable.

Maybe Glimmer got her way but she most certainly didn’t win.

“Yeah well. Activating a massive weapon might make people a little upset,” Catra scoffs at her.

“Only because someone got the message sent through to Horde Prime!” Glimmer retorts and she doesn’t even have the decency to look the slightest bit remorseful.

That is exactly what Catra had been afraid of. That this was all a product of her own actions, of not doing _good enough._ Maybe that was fair, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to take it from Glimmer right now.

“Barely! I barely activated it! And I did it to protect everyone!” Catra is yelling now, face hot with anger.

“Yeah and so was I!”

“It’s not the same and you know it!”

“Oh no.”

“No? _No?_ ” Catra scoffs, and gives Glimmer a shove. Glimmer isn’t even looking at her—she’s looking at something behind her. Catra doesn’t care though. They’re _not_ the same. “Get a grip!”

“Fuck,” Glimmer blurts, which is what catches Catra’s attention. She wouldn’t dare say that so loudly, not where there’s a 0.0005 chance that Angella could hear her. Catra follows her stare, turning around and looking up into the sky.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. She isn’t used to seeing…all of _that._ All of the stars and the lights, but when she does adjust she quickly finds Glimmer’s source of worry. Catra gulps, heart sinking as she looks at the silver and green exterior of a massive, looming ship that’s quickly approaching.

_Fuck_ is right.

They look to each other at once, eyes widening when they realize where the ship is headed.

“The Kingdom of the Snows, that’s where Hordak is,” Glimmer says, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice, “I have to stop him.”

Catra has all of five seconds to tackle Glimmer and spit out, “Not by yourself!” until she accidentally teleports both of them to the Kingdom of the Snows.

Completely unarmed. Entirely by themselves. With no plan, no escape route.

So it comes as no surprise to Catra when they both fail to do anything substantial to stop Prime from taking Hordak. The only thing the two of them manage to do in their panic-addled state is get taken right along with him.

In the blink of an eye, they’re miles away from Etheria, stranded and with only each other to blame.

But surviving is what Catra does best. She can think quickly on her feet—quicker than Glimmer, even as they watch in horror at what Horde Prime does to Hordak. The terrifying interaction tells Catra everything she needs to know. If Prime is willing to treat his ‘brother’ like that, they need to make themselves of use to him. Quickly.

It isn’t much, but she manages to convince Prime that he needs them, especially Glimmer. That he can’t destroy Etheria, not if he wants to use it as a superweapon. Selling a Horde leader on her worth is something that comes back to her naturally, like a second skin.

The way he regards her with great interest makes her stomach churn with disgust and fear. It almost feels like this is what he wanted all along, not just Hordak, but the both of them, as well. She has to swallow that feeling down, push it aside, try not to wretch at Prime’s obvious lie about seeking only peace and order.

“Are you _crazy_?” Glimmer shrieks when they’re alone in a new room-their bedroom. She shakes Catra in aggravation. “Why would you tell him about the Heart?”

_I wouldn’t keep two sisters apart_ , Prime had explained with a chilling smile before showing them their quarters, _I am not as brutish or cruel at my brother, you must understand. He has tainted my image, but I will see to it that he is cleansed and brought into my light once again._

Catra can still feel her skin crawl as the words replay in her mind.

“I’m keeping us _alive_!” Catra reminds her, “You saw what he did to Hordak!”

“Well now what are we going to do?” Glimmer asks, “We can’t get out of here! We’re in space!”

“I…” Catra sighs, pushing Glimmer’s arm off of her, “I don’t know. For now we just have to stay alive. I guess. We’re buying the Rebellion time to…to think of something to defeat Prime.”

“What are _you_ going to do?” Glimmer’s hysterics haven’t quelled, “I’m useful to him because he needs me to get the Heart to work. Even though it can’t work without She-Ra…but you-you’re not connected to a Runestone.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Catra snaps. “But at least I _have_ magic here. I can defend myself.”

“Are you serious?” Glimmer scoffs, “You can’t just-what, set fire to the ship! It’s sort of the only thing keeping us alive!”

“Why does everyone always think I’m going to set fire to everything?” Catra grumbles, “I’m not _Seahawk_.”

“Is this a joke to you?” Glimmer’s eyes are burning with emotion, “It’s not going to be long until he figures out how to work the Heart for himself! And then what happens to you?”

“Does it look like I think this is funny?” Catra returns, knot tightening in her stomach, “Look. I know how the Horde works, alright? I just have to keep myself, I don’t know, _useful_ to him.”

“What?” Glimmer’s voice is pitched in disbelief, “You can’t seriously be considering re-joining the Horde?”

“I’m not rejoining the Horde!” Catra feels her hair stand up in irritation, her tone indignant, “Let’s just make that _super_ fucking clear. I’m just saying, if it keeps us alive…I’ll do what I have to do.”

Rejoining the Horde—Catra can’t stomach the thought. Her face darkens, chills crawling across her skin, remembering the Fright Zone, remembering the feeling of being breathless…

“Besides, with Hordak…being reconditioned, or whatever, Prime won’t even know I left the Horde in the first place. Or got kicked out, exiled-whatever.”

“Catra,” Glimmer’s face softens in sympathy. She reaches out to touch Catra, “Listen…”

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it,” Catra shoves her arm away. It may just be the two of them here, but that doesn’t mean Catra is happy about it or will be any easier on Glimmer for it. “I know it’s a shit plan, alright? But it’s all we have.”

She stalks over to the window, jumps on top of the sill and steadfastly ignores Glimmer’s dejected sigh. But she doesn’t stop Glimmer from taking a seat on the ledge and looking out of the window with her.

Together, the princesses of Bright Moon look across a vast, black sky littered with stars and planets. Catra thinks of Adora, wonders what she’s doing right now. Worries how quickly the Rebellion will realize that they’ve disappeared. Hopes it doesn’t crush Micah or Angella too much and prays that at the very least, someone will figure out they did not go willingly into the clutches of Prime’s grasp.

Catra leans her head back against the frame of the window. Now that all of the anger is drained from her body, all she can think about is how she’s never been this far from home before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only thing worse than being mad at your adopted 'older' sister is being mad at her while trapped on a spaceship with her while some tincan bastard plans the demise of all the ppl you care about;
> 
> told myself I was going to take a break but started writing this three (3) whole days after finishing exile 
> 
> this has a lot of elements I was hoping to use in exile but wanted to give that arc a natural end point before going further. that said, this story will move a bit quicker given the established components of s5!


	2. twisted knife

“Space!”

“I-"

“Our children are in _space_!”

“I know-"

“With the emperor of the Galactic Horde!”

“Yes-"

“They could be anywhere in the galaxy! We have no idea how to locate them and even if we can, it may be too late-“

Before Angella can finish the sentence that would surely gut the both of them, Micah cuts her off by bracing her shoulders with his hands, “Angie, no. We can’t go there. We’re going to find them and bring them home, alright?”

“How?” Angella asks, exasperation seeping from her voice, “We've been forced to evacuate Bright Moon. We’re _barely_ concealed here by Mystacor’s sorcerers. We no longer have She-Ra. And we lost our daughters! They’re just— _gone!”_

Angella turns out of his hold and sits on one of the chairs in their tent. Head in her hand, she repeats, “They’re gone.”

“We’ll get them back,” Micah insists. He sounds so optimistic, so sure of himself that it baffles her. She can’t tell if he’s just trying to be strong for her or if the confidence behind his words is authentic.

“How can you be so certain of that?” Angella asks, voice thin and eyes narrowed. She’s in no mood for any sort of platitudes from her husband. They don’t need a ‘positive mindset’ right now. They need action. Any sort of plan, really, would be nice. “We have nothing.”

“That isn’t true, Entrapta is trying to figure out how to use one of the surveillance bots we took down to reverse-track Prime. The rest of the Alliance is trying to find a way to secure Thaymor and Elberon from invasion. And maybe we don’t have She-Ra, but we still have Adora and Bow—and you know neither of they’ll stop at nothing to bring Catra and Glimmer home.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. And this must be the fifth or sixth time he’s had to remind her of these truths, but it does little to soothe her ire now. “How could this have even happened? We never should’ve let either of them out of our sight.”

“We were busy trying to figure out how to defend ourselves against Prime,” Micah’s voice is gentle as he reminds her.

“So busy that we missed an entire enemy ship entering the atmosphere and abducting our own children?” Angella seethes. “Don’t be ridiculous- _how_ could we have let this happen?”

“We can’t blame ourselves right now,” Micah frowns, “All we know is that Glimmer must’ve teleported the both of them to the Kingdom of the Snows to stop Horde Prime from getting to Hordak. Even if we somehow knew that’s what she was planning, we don’t know if we would’ve been able to stop her.”

“Well you were certainly no help in stopping her from activating the Heart!” Angella accuses, looking at him with fire blazing in her eyes. The choice did not ultimately rest on his shoulders and Glimmer could’ve very well disregarded the both of them, but his ambivalence on the matter certainly was no help.

Micah’s voice is solemn, hurt. “It was our only choice, Angie.”

She knows. Deep down, she knows. Sitting around and doing nothing was not feasible. But there’s a reason she doesn’t fight on the frontlines and why she has tried so hard to keep Glimmer under her careful watch. Angella is burdened with deeply-rooted fears of losing the ones she loves all in the name of war. The unintending culprit of these fears stands in front of her now with tired eyes and a heavy heart.

Her worst nightmare had already happened once. There was a time when she thought the pain of it might just kill her. And maybe it would’ve if it hadn’t been for Glimmer. But now there’s a possibility that history may repeat itself in the cruelest of ways and now her daughters are at stake.

The Queen is no fool. She knows miracles are short supply; just because Micah found his way back to her…it doesn’t mean she’ll get so lucky again.

“Really?” She questions snappishly, “Our ‘only choice’ involves losing our daughters to Horde Prime? That’s your ideal plan?”

“Angella, this is not ideal for me! This is the last thing I ever wanted,” His voice wavers with emotion and guilt throbs in her stomach, “But we haven’t lost them. Not yet.”

“I know. I know you didn’t want this _nightmare_ ,” Angella laments, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to…”

She trails off, voice choked with tears. She isn’t even sure how she was intending to end the sentence, but Micah seems to understand well enough. He kneels down on the floor in front of her and takes her hands into his.

“I know. This is hard. And there are…a million things I wish I’d done differently,” Micah confesses. She shares the sentiment wholeheartedly. “But what’s done is done. And right now we just have to focus on what we do have and how we can get our girls back.”

“I…it’s just,” Angella can’t look at him, not when the tears stream down her face and shame swells within her. Aside from the sheer white-terror of losing her children, there is another type of dread eating away at her, “You didn’t see it Micah. She was terrified of me.”

A worry that their last moments together would be cemented by the wide-eyed look of horror on Catra’s face. The crushing knowledge _she_ is the one who put that fear there has been haunting Angella ever since.

“Catra?” Micah asks, taking a seat next to her and tightening his hold on her hands.

“ _Yes, Catra_. Would we have faced even half of the problems we have if Glimmer held even an ounce of fear of me?” Angella can’t help but say, even if she certainly doesn’t want Glimmer to be afraid of her. Fear and respect are not one in the same.

“No,” Micah laughs a bit, “No we would not.”

“Glimmer understands I’m upset with her for activating the Heart, but she also knows I don’t love her any less for it,” Angella is grateful for that much. While tumultuous at times, her relationship with Glimmer is uncontestable. “But Catra…”

“Catra knows you love her,” Micah interjects immediately.

He’s wrong. Sometimes her husband forgets that Catra is rather selective in who she holds closely to her heart. Maybe Catra has finally accepted how much Micah cares about her…but the two of them have never been on equal footing in the field of parenting.

“No. You didn’t see her. I’ve never seen her look like that before-look at _me_ like that. Like I was going to hurt her,” Angella frowns. “And I’ve tried so hard to be …cautious with her. But when the Heart was activated, I didn’t have control over my power.”

This isn’t the first time Micah has heard this story. Angella had been agonizing over their encounter relentlessly— _before_ Catra and Glimmer had even been taken.

“You were only trying to protect her,” He reminds her. It’s the truth, but trying to protect her had still caused harm.

They’re both still learning what exactly can trigger a trauma response from her. It’s partially why Angella has determined to take extra care and deliberation in her interactions with Catra. Parenting Glimmer came naturally. But trying to establish herself as a beacon of support for Catra has it’s challenges.

It wasn’t just building from the ground up like it had been with Glimmer, Angella has to work through the damage Shadow Weaver caused. The sorceress instilled a twisted and cruel definition of motherhood into Catra that Angella has to carefully untwist. It’s a difficulty that Micah doesn’t have to worry about. “I only hurt her more. I mean-she couldn’t even _look_ at me.”  
  
“There was a lot going on—”

“You don’t understand, it’s different. You two…will always be closer,” Angella admits, disheartened. She’s come to accept that Catra will always feel more connected with Micah. It’s only fair, the only other mother figure in Catra’s life had done nothing but harm her. Not only that, but Angella knew of Catra before she had been exiled. And she never even helped her or even look at her as someone who _could_ be helped-certainly not like Micah had. She only regarded Catra as a threat, especially after she had kidnapped Glimmer.

If Catra had never saved her husband’s life, Angella likely would’ve never regarded her as anything more than a Horde soldier. Perhaps that is only fair and logical, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling guilty—especially knowing all the good Catra is capable of now.

And it only added to the burning feeling of insignificance when Shadow Weaver had presented them with Catra’s letter, addressed only to Micah. Or the slightest twinge of jealousy at ease of their bond, the depth of their closeness. She never had to worry about Glimmer picking favorites growing up—she had no options. But it is clear that Catra and Micah have a bond that Angella herself will never come close to, despite her attempts.

“And I’m glad that you two are so close. Catra needs you.” She sighs, “I’ve tried very hard to gain her trust. And just when I thought I had…I’m afraid I lost it. Lost her.”

Would Catra ever look at her the same? Angella fears not. There’s a knot in the pit of her stomach, knowing that she’s messed up and that she’s unable to fix it.

If it was hard for Catra to look at Angella as a mother before, it must be impossible now.

“Catra needs you too,” Micah shakes his head. “I know it might not seem like it and she can be hard to read, but I know she does. You haven’t lost her. And _when_ we get her back, you’ll see that I’m right.”

He ends the reassurance with a squeeze of his hand around hers. She smiles at the familiar gesture, even if she’s not certain she believes his words.

“I hope you’re right,” She says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I know I’m right,” he responds with a playful lilt.

“There’s that charming, unsubstantiated confidence I missed so dearly,” She remarks, slight smirk playing at her lips.

“ _Hey_ ,” He takes mock offense, “I have it on good record that you missed the ‘relentless optimism’ I provide.”

“Don’t give me another opportunity to miss it,” Angella threatens lightly, partially joking but also holding onto his hand tighter. She can’t even think of losing him right now. Never again, actually.

“I won’t,” he promises.

There’s a moment of silence between them before Angella asks:

“What do you think they’re doing right now?”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head with a chuckle, “Oh, I’m sure they’re at each other’s throats.”

* * *

“You’re on my side.”

Glimmer huffs, crossing her arms and looking at Catra sharply.

“No, I’m not.” Catra refutes. They measured and set an invisible demarcation line right between the middle of the room—each getting exactly eight floor tiles worth of space. Catra had been hovering at approximately seven and three-quarters in, but now she intentionally takes a step over the quarter. She gives Glimmer a wicked grin, “Well. Now I am.”

“Ugh,” Glimmer groans, stomping her foot. “You’re so annoying! I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you.”

“I can ask Prime to give us separate rooms,” Catra responds coolly, examining her nails with feigned interest.

“Oh what, now that you’ve ‘pledged your allegiance’ to him you think he’s going to run around doing favors for you?” Glimmer scoffs, stalking over to where Catra stands and pushing her back over the eighth tile. To _Catra’s_ side of the room.

Part of her is fearful that Catra might just do it. Glimmer doesn’t want them to be separated; as much as Catra is pissing her off right now, she’d rather not be alone.

Not after _that_ dinner where they were forced to watch their friends and family struggle just to keep up against the Galactic Clones. All Glimmer could think about was how their suffering was her fault.

No, Glimmer can’t be alone right now. Especially not after Prime showed her his trophy room of planets he’s destroyed. She hasn’t told Catra about that much. Catra doesn’t need to _know_ the extent of what Glimmer’s mistake might cost them.

Besides, she already hates having to watch Catra act like she’s willing to realign herself with the Horde.

“I didn’t ‘pledge my allegiance’ to him!” Catra hisses, “Not… _seriously_ anyway.”

Glimmer hates that too. Hates that they have to play this game, hates even more that there is nothing she can do to make sure Prime doesn’t hurt Catra. She can’t protect Catra at all, actually. And isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? She latched onto the title of ‘big sister’ with such fervor, but what good is it if she can’t _actually_ look out for her?

If anything, Catra is protecting _both_ of them and the lie it all hinges on is so…fucking fragile.

“What happens when he figures out you’re lying, Catra?” Glimmer demands, fury in her voice. “You never should’ve followed me to the Kingdom of the Snows! You should’ve just—”

“Just what?” Catra snaps, “Just stayed behind in Bright Moon while you left and did something stupid _again_?”

“Yes!” Glimmer answers nonsensically.

“You came into my room!” Catra is quick to remind her, “You were in the middle of _bothering_ me because no one else would talk to you!”

“No, I was trying to help you fix things with Adora!” Glimmer deflects, “We _all_ know what happens when you two fight!”

“Oh give me a break,” Catra rolls her eyes, “You just wanted Adora and Arrow Boy to not be mad at you anymore!”

“Maybe! So what?” Glimmer huffs, “At least _I_ can admit when I don’t want to fight with my friends!”

That must hit a nerve for Catra, Glimmer can tell by the way her hand curls into a fist.

“The only reason we fought is because of you! Because you had to set off the stupid Heart of Etheria and Adora just _had_ to listen to you!”

“If you hate me so much then why didn’t you just let me go find Hordak by myself?” Glimmer asks.

She knows it’s her fault that Catra and Adora are fighting. Knows that everyone in the Rebellion is mad at her and for a good reason. Knows that she’s in for the grounding of a lifetime from her parents when they get back home. _If_ they get back home…

But that's the real reason why she went to Catra’s room. It wasn’t because Glimmer wanted to fix things with her and Adora. It was because she knew Catra would be the only one who wouldn’t dance around her disdain. Catra would _fight_ her and Glimmer…kind of wanted that. She wanted someone to yell at her and tell her she fucked up . She would’ve preferred that over the cold shoulder from Bow and Adora or the disappointed yet calm reprimand from her parents.

“And why do you even care what Horde Prime does to me?” Glimmer asks. It’s less of an accusation and more of a genuine question. Because if Catra is so mad at her and blames her for everything, it doesn’t make sense that she’d still be trying to protect her. Glimmer doesn’t deserve it.

Catra clearly wasn’t expecting that question, “I…”

Her response is interrupted by a disruption outside of their room. Glimmer frowns when she sees two clones outside, heart sinking. What _else_ could Prime want right now? Hasn’t he done enough for one day?

“Little sister,” One of them greets, “Lord Prime requests your presence in the throne room.”

 _Little sister._ Glimmer’s blood boils at that. That’s her thing. And sometimes Frosta’s.

Catra’s face falters. Glimmer makes a move to accompany her, but the same clone speaks again, “Lord Prime will speak to Catra alone.”

“But…” Glimmer swallows thickly, not missing the nervous glance that Catra sends her. The clones walk in and flank Catra’s sides in order to guide her out.

Before Catra follows, she turns half around to answer Glimmer’s question. She grips her arm desperately, her voice an urgent whisper, “Because I still _care_.”

Glimmer registers the words as Catra is escorted out of their room, tears falling freely as she watches the silhouette of her ponytail disappear.

She knows Prime must be pissed. A mere few hours ago, she had shattered one of his ‘trophies’ and refused to help him—‘no matter what’. She can only imagine whatever he’s got planned for Catra is an act of retribution.

_Fuck._

* * *

“No war, no pain,” Prime explains, walking around Catra like a predator circling it’s prey. “How does that sound, little sister?”

Catra struggles not to viscerally react to the slithery tone of his voice, even as it sends chills up her spine.

“Is that not what you want?” Prime continues, stopping to stand by her side. He gestures to the large screen before them. A video clip with fairly _shit_ quality plays before them.

It takes Catra a moment to recognize what she’s seeing. It’s a recording from Hordak’s sanctum, right before the portal was activated. “Isn’t that what you fought for? You tried so very hard to stop my brother from sending the message to alert me of his whereabouts, after all.”

A bead of sweat forms on her forehead. She doesn’t have a lie lined up for that. She hadn’t anticipated on Prime being able to _connect_ to Hordak’s mind and unveil the memories of his consciousness. But, in her defense, how the fuck was she supposed to know that was something that could be done?

“Fear not,” Prime chuckles, sensing her anxiety. It feels like a mockery and although it ignites a flame of irritation within her, Catra is very limited in her options to do anything about it. “I understand your actions and I intend to do you no harm for them. My brother has spread a grave mistruth about my legacy—I do not seek to cause pain, I wish to heal it.”

Catra swallows thickly at his words but finds her voice, “I thought you were supposed to come to Etheria and destroy it. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Quite the contrary,” He denies easily, “See, dear Catra, I do not wish to inflict any pain.”

“And you don’t think that activating an ancient superweapon is going to cause any pain?” Catra scoffs before reminding herself that she’s meant to be…supportive, or whatever right now.

He stops walking, taking pause to evaluate her.

“Hm. Do you know why I’ve brought you here? Surely you must’ve learned by now that I see all. I _know_ all.” He asks. “You aren’t foolish enough to believe you can outwit me, are you?”

He punctuates this by placing his cold, sharp fingers on her shoulder. Too close to her neck.

She wonders if he overheard her conversation with Glimmer. Or if he never believed her to be earnest in her pledge in the first place.

“What a pretty band,” He remarks, finger extending slightly to touch the hair tie Angella had given her. She tenses as he does, wanting nothing more than to push his hand away, but can’t do anything that’ll risk making him angry. She fears he’ll use one of those sharpened fingers to slice it off.

Catra has come to realize that he has some…heightened ability to sense her fear. He must, because he simply smiles down at her before retracting his hand. “You care for them greatly. Don’t you little sister?” He folds his hands together behind his back and doesn’t wait for her response, “But they’ve caused you great pain, have they not?”

“I’m over it,” she bites out, not knowing what else to say.

He doesn’t believe her for a second. “You bear a great burden of anger and grief, I could tell as much the moment you set foot on my ship. These people…these _Etherians_ have hurt you, haven’t they?”

Her jaw clenches. What is he trying to do? Rub salt in the wound?

“What if I told you I could take away that pain?” He propositions, “I could wash out all of your suffering, all the heaviness and despair in your heart. I can set you free of these burdens. Such petty problems, really, it would be of no trouble to me at all. Wouldn’t it be nice, to finally free yourself of the darkness?”

 _Nice._ Sure, she scoffs internally. Nice if it were true. Nice if this asshole wasn’t blatantly lying to her.

“Others have tried, haven’t they? To set you free of the burden you carry, the weight of all of darkness you shoulder? But they couldn’t heal you, could they?” Prime asks, “Couldn’t alleviate your anger or take away the pain, hm?”

Her eyes widen. How did _he_ know that? Her heart rate picks up and he seems smug in the validation of his assumption.

“Because they’re the ones who hurt you, poor sister. They cast you aside. Left you behind. Of course they can’t heal you. Not like I can.”

It’s not true. She shuts her eyes, willing herself to push out any memories of them-of Adora leaving. Angella shoving her away. Scorpia and Glimmer sneaking off to the Fright Zone. Micah not taking her side…but they come in flashes, anyway.

How can Prime actually be right about the pain she feels? And the subsequent guilt from it all? She swallows thickly. She was supposed to be better, but she still felt angry. Still felt hurt on somedays, even if she couldn’t explain why.

She’s supposed to break this cycle, isn’t supposed to feel this anger or betrayal anymore. What is _wrong_ with her?

Self-disgust washes over her, so deeply she feels it in her bones.

“Catra,” She doesn’t like the way he says her name. _Cat-tra_. It sounds foreign, it’s her own name and it sounds _foreign_. Wrong, somehow. “I’ve selected you. I’ve chosen _you_ to stand above them, the people who hurt you. You may step into my light and reap the rewards of my glory. I can take away your needless pain and end your suffering.”

She feels sick. Her whole body feels clammy, making the air against her skin feel even colder. She can’t quite describe the feeling, but whatever he’s offering, she doesn’t want it.

“Why?” Her voice feels meek, “Why me?”

“Why, I’ve seen what you can do. You ran my brother’s pathetic little army right out from underneath him. And when it comes to Etheria, you know the land best. You, my dear sister, have seen both sides of this futile war. You are most capable, and you are _far_ stronger than Glimmer,” Prime explains, like putting her on a pedestal above Glimmer will appease her, somehow. “And unlike the people you are so keen on protecting, I can celebrate that. You have proven yourself most worthy to stand beside me.”

She closes her eyes. She has to, if she’ll have any success in preventing herself from throwing up.

“And what’s in it for you?” She asks, air surrounding them feeling a touch too thin.

He chuckles, “Besides everything I’ve just listed? In exchange for the favor of my light, I will only request that you help me take down this… _She-Ra_ that Glimmer has spoken of.”

 _What? No-_ Catra won’t. Catra can’t. So she lies. “It’s over between me and Adora.”

“Ah ah _ah_ ,” He tuts, “Do not lie to me, little sister. You must remember I _know_ all.”

“I’m serious!” Catra argues, and it isn’t a total lie, “Adora doesn’t…look-she’s closer to Glimmer, alright? She’d…pick her over me.” _That’s the only reason why we’re here._

Adora has done it more than once.  
He looks like he wants to laugh at that. “Hm…interesting. Brothers, you may see Catra back to her quarters now.”

Catra looks to him in confusion. A jarring end to the conversation, but clearly…he’s gotten whatever he wanted out of her. She’s eager to get away from him, back to her room but—

“Oh, and one more thing,” He calls out after her. The clones stop walking and Catra turns to face him, “It’d be wise for you to remember that my victory is inevitable. The only decision you must make is how painful you’d like that journey to be.”

* * *

“Aaaand…done!” Entrapta declares gleefully.

Angella and Micah appear immediately at her side, joining her space in the already cramped tent she’s been occupying since they had to relocate for a second time.

“Done? It’s done?” Micah asks, “The ship’s done and ready to go to space?”

“The ship’s ready?” Adora asks, bursting her head into the tent.

“Adora!” Bow comes barreling in after her, “You! Need! To! Be! Resting!”

“But Entrapta said the ship is ready!” Adora fights Bow’s attempts to pull her back to her own tent. “And you saw the message last night, Prime is looking for me!”

“Oh, I’m not talking about the ship. Darla’s been ready,” Entrapta confirms, ignoring the way their faces light up before delivering the bad news, “But _we’re_ not ready to leave. Not yet at least!”

The four of them deflate at that, shoulders sinking in disappointment. Angella pinches the bridge of her nose, “What are you referring to, then?”

“My communicator!” Entrapta answers with glee, holding up a small, white device with green accents, “See, I made it out of recycled parts from one of Horde Prime’s surveillance bots! I was able to disconnect the wiring from its original circuit boards and re-fuse it so _we_ can send a signal to his ship, like how Hordak did!”

“Entrapta,” Bow sighs, “Why would we want to send signals to Horde Prime’s ship?”

“Wouldn’t that just make it easier for him to locate us?” Micah asks, peering out of the tent and scanning the hideaway Adora escorted them to the previous night.

“Don’t be silly, Prime can’t track _my_ reprogramming,” Entrapta brushes him off. “Besides, Adora said we’re safe here!”

Micah and Angella exchange a weary glance.

“I said we _should_ be,” Adora’s voice is suddenly doubtful, “I mean…we don’t know what Prime is capable of. We shouldn’t do anything to risk it.”

“But space is infinite and-“

“And ever-expanding, we know,” Bow interjects calmly.

“It’s the only way to locate Prime’s flagship!” Entrapta reiterates, “If we don’t do this, we could spend weeks, or months, or years in space looking for it! If we want to find Catra and…her sister, we need to get a signal to the ship!”

Now it’s Micah’s turn to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply in frustration. “Glimmer. Her name is Glimmer.”

“Right, Glimmer—”

“Okay. Entrapta’s right,” Adora concedes, “But we can’t send the signal from here or else we’ll risk getting caught. We’ll have to take a team and try to get closer to one of Prime’s spires to pin the location. It’s risky, but it’s the quickest route to getting us off of Etheria. Is that the last thing we need to do before we leave?”

“Yes,” Entrapta confirms, “Darla is fully equipped to handle all of the challenges of space!”

“ _No_ ,” Bow interjects, “We aren’t going anywhere until Adora gets some rest.”

“But-“ Adora protests immediately.

“No ‘buts’. You need sleep! We’ll send a team to get the signal across while you rest. And if- _if_ you actually do, then we’ll be set to leave by the time you wake up,” Bow’s voice is strong and unwavering, despite the enormous amount of pressure he’s been under.

“No,” Adora refutes, “I can’t just lie around and do nothing. Not when…they need us.”

“Bow is right,” Angella says, “You need to rest dear. You won’t be of much use to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.”

In a moment that is the product of nothing if not the severe lack of sleep Adora’s been getting, her body goes rigid with frustration and she snaps. With her hands flexing uselessly at her sides and tears of anger welling in her eyes she snaps, “I _can’t_! Every second we’re stuck down here is another second that Catra and Glimmer are stuck up _there_ with Prime. And we don’t know what he’s doing or what his plans are for them, and I’m not She-Ra anymore. I can’t-I couldn’t protect them! And I can’t protect them now or fight off bots by myself because I lost She-Ra and I’m basically useless without her and now you’re all telling me I just have to sit around and do nothing—”

“Adora,” Bow stops her rant by gently squeezing her arm, “That’s _not_ true. You are the furthest thing from useless. With or without She-Ra.”

Bow’s just saying that because he has to, Adora tells herself.

“It doesn’t matter. I have to help get them back,” Adora turns to Micah and Angella, “I promised you guys, I’m bringing them home.”

Her words don’t have the comforting effect she was aiming for because Angella just seems to look _more_ sad. The Queen turns to Micah and they have one of those weirdly silent exchanges that Adora can never quite understand.

“Adora,” Micah says after a moment, “Let’s go for a walk.”

It isn’t a sly diversion and Adora can hear Angella and Bow strategize before she even leaves the tent. They walk in silence for a moment before Micah says, “You know, we’d be way worse off if we lost you instead of She-Ra.”

Adora looks at him in confusion, “I…I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“Humor me for a minute. I know losing She-Ra isn’t ideal, but Adora, we’re all just glad we didn’t lose _you_.”

“I don’t know why,” Adora mumbles, “I can’t do anything without her.”

“She-Ra can’t do anything without _you_ ,” Micah corrects. “Look around, you’re the one who brought us here. You found us a safe haven amidst Prime’s invasion. You did that, not She-Ra.”

“It’s only because Madame Razz brought me here before,” Adora frowns, uncomfortable with any sort of compliment right now.

“It was _you_ who saved Catra from the signal. You saved both of us from Beast Island. And from what my wife tells me, you’ve led many victories and planning sessions before I came back. You helped bring the Alliance back together, Adora.”

“I…that’s not completely true. I was only about to do all of that because I had She-Ra. I don’t have her anymore,” Adora vehemently disagrees, shaking her head even as he leads her into her tent. If this is his attempt to get her to rest, it isn’t going to work. She’ll just go right back to work the minute he leaves.

“Maybe She-Ra helped, but that was all you Adora. She-Ra is part of your destiny, but she isn’t what makes you special,” Micah explains, taking a seat on the chair next to her bed. He waits, patiently, for her to sit on the bed.

 _Who the hell is She-Ra without you?_ It’s Catra’s voice she hears in her head as she sits down. From the day they were stuck in the Ivy Runes. She remembers the bright noise of her laugh echoing across the cavern. t’s laughable now, how the hell she ever could’ve thought Catra liked She-Ra more.

But now Catra isn’t here. She’s gone. Prime invasion or not, Adora has fucked that up.

“I just…I need to get them back. I need to fix it,” Adora says, hands balled into fists where they rest on her knees. She knows her last conversation with Glimmer wasn’t great, but they’ve worked through worse. Catra…Adora is less optimistic about. ”I miss her.”

The words slip out of her mouth before she even recognizes them. The words Catra may never admit, but they come to Adora easily.

“I know you do,” Micah nods sympathetically, “And I know you’ll find them and bring them back. And we’ll defeat Prime, together. But…you can’t pour from an empty cup.”

“Pour from an empty cup?” Adora repeats in confusion, wrinkling her nose. “That doesn’t make any sense. “

“Exactly,” Micah says with a light laugh. When he notices her lack of proper sleep is preventing her from truly getting the extent of his message, he elaborates. “Imagine you have an empty glass. Can you use that same glass to fill others with water?”

“Um…no. It’s empty,” Adora mulls it over.

“Right. But imagine you’re the glass. And energy is water. You can’t help others until you help yourself and build up your own energy reserve. That means getting some rest.”

Damn. He really shoehorned her into that one. It feels a bit like trickery. Adora wonders, briefly, if this is how Catra feels. If this is what she deals with on a daily basis. If so, it makes sense how Micah was able to actually chip away at her walls.

She does…feel tired. That was never in question. She just didn't think it mattered whether or not she was tired, not when other people needed her help with planning or scouting or fending off Clones. But…if she _is_ that glass and her energy is running on empty, maybe Micah is right. Maybe she can’t give to others right now. Even if she really wants to.

“Okay,” She sighs in resolution, “I’ll try to rest. For half an hour. Tops.”

“Make it an hour and we have ourselves a deal,” Micah bargains.

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Two hours.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to meet me halfway,” Adora looks at him, alarmed. No one has ever tried to bargain with her that way. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Sure it does,” Micah smiles before standing. “I’ll get Swift Wind to stand guard for three hours.”

“Three?” Adora asks, incredulous. “But-“

“That should give us just enough time to track Prime,” Micah says. “Don’t make me go to four.”

“I…ugh,” Adora resigns and flops backward onto the cot. She wants to fight with him, to protest because—really, who is she? She’s not Glimmer or Catra. And they don’t really listen to him on a good day, so why should she?

But as she lies down, she feels the heaviness from lack of sleep weigh over her. She’ll give it an hour. If she’s not asleep in one hour, she’s getting up and no one can stop her.

She’s not aware she’s even said as much out loud until she hears Micah laugh on his way out. Before the tent flap falls behind him, she’s already fast asleep.

* * *

_It’s silent and it’s cold when Adora wakes up in her tent. Her body jolts forward when she realizes why-there is no one by her side, snoring softly and keeping her warm._

_Catra is gone._ Gone _gone._

_The worst part about sleeping is the brief pause that comes upon awakening;, a few moments of peaceful consciousness right before the pain of remembering that Catra is gone crashes through her._

“That's all I am to you, just your lousy sidekick.”

 _Catra’s words echo throughout the tent but are carried away with the slightest wind. They are just ghosts, much like Catra herself._

_And no,_ no _, it’s not true. How could it ever be true? There was a time when they’d been manipulated into believing and reinforcing that narrative on each other. But things were different now and Adora just needs to remind Catra of how far they’ve come._

_If they could just talk, everything would be sorted out. But, Adora realizes in a grave panic, there is no time for talking. No option, no opportunity._

_Because she lost She-Ra._

_Maybe if she’d been stronger, a better She-Ra, she wouldn’t have lost her upon stopping the Heart. Maybe if she had been a better girlfriend, she would’ve never gone with Glimmer’s plans to activate it._

_But now there is no Catra and no She-Ra. Adora had always been forced to choose between one or the other, but now she has neither._

_“Adora?” A voice calls from outside of the tent._

_It’s familiar. So familiar it jars Adora out of her spiral. That voice shouldn’t be here, can’t possibly be here…_

_But then it calls out to her again, “Adora?”_

_“Catra?” Adora calls out in return, running out of the tent before she can think better of it._

_“Adora…” She snaps her head, looking around for the source-for Catra, but she’s no longer in their camp, nestled securely in the Whispering Woods._

_She’s just outside of Crystal Castle, like how it’d been after she stopped the Heart and she saw the stars in the sky for the first time._

_Except now there’s someone ahead of her. Tall, golden and glowing. There’s a great, black chasm between them. Crossing it is impossible. Adora isn’t sure how she knows that, only that it is an irreconcilable truth._

_Something about them…is familiar. They are separated now, but Adora knows them—knows at one point they had been united._

_It’s She-Ra._

_But then she hears Catra’s voice again,_ “Isn’t saving the universe what matters most to you?”

 _“Catra?” Adora whips her body around, eyes searching desperately for her. “Catra, where are you?”_

_She doesn’t hear Catra again and the silence makes her ears ring.. But, like a force stronger than fate is answering her question, her eyes snap towards She-Ra once more. Suddenly, like the information is poured into her brain, she knows that just across the chasm is Catra. But she’s out of Adora’s line of vision, obscured by the glowing form of She-Ra._

_Her face is blank. Unreadable. She’s different, somehow. Maybe it’s because she’s no longer part of Adora._

_Somehow though, Adora feels attacked by the eyeless gaze, like there’s something disapproving in the stare._

_“Look, I did what I had to do!” Adora yells, “I didn’t…want to break the sword. I didn’t want to lose you. Either of you!”_

_She’s met with silence. It’s heavy and carries a telling air. Adora feels like she’s supposed to draw a conclusion here, have some grand revelation, but the low whistling of a desolate wind is all she has._

_“I…the truth is, I liked having a destiny. Having purpose. But you’re not my destiny. You never were. It was just…random.” Adora realizes solemnly. Light Hope chose her fate for her. It wasn’t pre-determined. She just happened to be the one that Light Hope pulled through the portal._

_Adora doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now. Who she’s supposed to be without She-Ra. It’s even difficult to remember who she was_ before _She-Ra._

 _But there is one person who does remember. One person who loved her and needed her and cared for her before she had stumbled into some ultimate prophecy._

_“I don’t know what my destiny is anymore. But I’m going to save my friends, with or without you.”_

_She-Ra seems to acknowledge this and the air shifts between them again. The energy feels more motivating, encouraging. Adora can’t quite make sense of it._

_“Thanks, though. For everything.” Adora says, and it hurts her heart. It feels like a goodbye she isn’t ready for._

_But she’s ready. She’s ready to charge across that chasm, no matter what. It’s not impossible, not anymore. She’ll get to Catra, even if she has to go through She-Ra to do it._

_Feeling energized, she steps forward. As she goes, the golden light from She-Ra emanates even brighter until it engulfs Adora entirely. Suddenly, she feels the need to push through it, because Catra is right there and she has to cross now or she’ll lose her forever—_

With a gasp of air, Adora awakens, _truly_ awakens, with a start.

And she is equal parts surprised to find that not only has she slept for well over six hours, but they’re also ready to go. Like _ready_ ready.

They found Prime’s ship. They know where Catra and Glimmer are.As a matter of fact, they’re _too_ ready. As in, they need to leave in two minutes or Prime’s incoming ships will prevent them from leaving at all.

They’re in the middle of hasty, quickened goodbyes when surveillance bots descend upon them and Micah is forced into a decision.

The plan was for Angella to stay and lead the Rebellion in defending their camp and securing surrounding villages with meticulous care. Angella had reluctantly agreed that Micah accompanying Adora, Bow and Entrapta was the most practical move. And Micah was _more_ than ready to give the Galactic Emperor the reckoning of a lifetime.

But now they only had mere seconds to launch. They would never make it in time. Unless…

“I have an idea,” Micah says, adrenaline of the moment crushing over them. Angella regards him with great interest. He turns to Adora, “You guys get on the ship. Worry about taking off and we’ll keep them distracted.”

“What?” Adora’s eyes widen, “What do you mean? You can’t stay here! We need you-“

“Dear…” Angella is clearly trepidatious as well.

“Trust me,” Micah shakes his head, “It’s the only way. But we have to act quickly.”

Adora feels more level-headed after sleeping. She’s resolute in her goal—she’ll cross any divide to bring Catra back. And Glimmer. She’s just…less worried about Glimmer, especially with Bow. Glimmer doesn’t hate her. But she remembers how poorly the rescue mission on Beast Island went. How Catra refused to leave. And she doesn’t care what Micah said earlier—Adora has never saved Catra. Not _really_.

“But…Catra…I don’t know if I can bring her back on my own. I don’t know what’s waiting for us on Prime’s ship but…I know on Beast Island I just made it worse. She would’ve never left if it wasn’t for you! You have to come with us. I don’t know if …” she trails off.

_If I’m enough._

“You’re not on your own, Adora,” Micah corrects with a shake of his head, “Things are different now. If anyone can bring her home— _both_ of them home, it’s you.

Adora looks at him wearily, wholly unconvinced. But they don’t have time to debate it further, and he isn’t going to change his mind. “I won’t let you guys down.”

“We know,” Angella says with an encouraging, soft smile.

At that, Adora runs to the ship looking more determined and well-rested than ever before.

It works.

The ship launches just in time, departing thanks to Micah’s disguise. He much would’ve preferred to be _on_ said ship instead of masquerading as his daughter’s girlfriend as a distraction but…

Running onto the ship without a plan and only a hope that they could make it in time would have been reckless and without thought. It’s the same type of ‘act first think later’ mentality that led to him being captured by the Horde, the one that encouraged his original choice to activate the Heart.

“Are you alright?” Angella asks, frowning in the wake of their departure, “I know…how hard it is to stay behind.”

“If I hadn’t stayed they wouldn’t have been able to take off at all,” Micah laments.

Staying was the safe choice. He’s chosen the dangerous path before, and he paid a great cost. Even if it meant sacrificing his place on the ship and relinquishing a great bit of trust into his daughters friends…Micah knows he did what he had to do.

“Staying behind gave them their best shot at getting to Prime’s ship,” he continues, “And it gives our girls their best chance at coming home.”

Angella smiles at him, the tension from their earlier conversation has seemed to dissipate just a bit. She looks at him like she just might have hope; her faith in him has not wavered, but it feels a bit more evidenced now with her arm looped in his.

“So…” Angella says after a minute and he can hear the smirk in her voice before he turns to look at her, “Are you going to tell our daughter about your little stint as _Mic-Ra_ , or should I?”

“Oh she is never going to let me live that down, is she?”

“Afraid not. She still hasn’t let your affinity for the bugs of Beast Island go.”

“Bugs are a valuable source of pro—”

“Protein, I know. I do try to defend you dear, but sometimes you make it difficult,” She teases.

The smile she gives him is genuine and he tries to return it in earnest. But it doesn’t quite reach either of their eyes. It’s nice to share a lighthearted moment, to have one small shred of normalcy to keep each other sane. But it’s heavily undercut by the unspoken _if_ , the silent fear that relies on chances and rushed calculations.

It’s only a moment before the smile falls and tears form. He pulls her into a tight embrace before the tears fall, holding her securely against his chest. He rubs comforting circles on her arms, watching the ship as it departs into the nighttime sky—until it’s nothing but an indiscernible speck.

This isn’t the ideal situation, not by any means. But they’ll get through it so long as they have each other.

* * *

“Pft, that’s ridiculous,” Catra scoffs from her perch on the window. Glimmer has dragged a chair below it so they can sit near each other.

They’re talking. Glimmer wants to ask Catra what happened with Prime, why she’d came back looking dangerously close to throwing up. She did ask that, actually, and was rewarded with a threat of claws across her face.

Catra doesn’t mean it though, and they both know that.

Still, Glimmer has opted to keep a lighter conversation, “Isn’t not ridiculous, it’s fun! Everyone brings their favorite toppings and we have some of the _best_ ice cream chefs in all of Etheria make up these crazy custom ice cream flavors.”

“Custom ice cream flavors?” Catra wrinkles her nose, “I can imagine that going horribly wrong.”

“Bow had one made out of pickle juice one year!” Glimmer explains, laughing as she recalls the instant disgust on his face. It’s even funnier to see Catra visibly recoil at the thought.

“Doesn’t Bow hate pickles?” Catra asks before pausing for a moment, “Wait a minute. You dared him to, didn’t you?”

“Psh. Maybe. More like I bet him that he wouldn’t,” Glimmer purses her lips. “But look at you! Remembering what Bow likes and dislikes. It’s almost like you’re _friends_.”

Catra narrows her eyes at her and responds with instant denial, “Ugh. No. I just remember him trying not to vomit when we watched Adora drink pickle juice right out of the jar.”

“Yeah! Because you _dared_ her to!” Glimmer pieces together.

“Well, yeah but I didn’t think she’d actually do it!” Catra throws her hands up in defense.

“Shut up. You totally knew she would!” Glimmer laughs, barely holding herself back from saying _you know she’d do anything for you_. It’d only invite an argument.

“Okay, so what if I did? Pickle juice is nothing. Before we were even cadets—yeah, the Horde has an age limit before they start physically training you which is shockingly humane, I know, but Kyle got in trouble for eating paste and Adora didn’t think that glue and paste were the same thing. Like she thought _paste_ was some sort of pastry and didn’t get what the big deal was so she tried to eat it too. Her lips got stuck together and her stomach hurt for like a week.” Catra recalls, laughing for the first half but turning to a grimace when she remembers how sick Adora was after that.

“Oh my god—no she didn’t,” Glimmer laughs along, “Well. Actually, I’m not that surprised. I saw her eating _raw_ eggs the other day because ‘they help build muscle’.”

“Ugh,” Catra commiserates, leaning her head against the metal frame, “You know who told her about that, right? Fucking Huntara.”

“Of course,” Glimmer rolls her eyes, “You know much more _annoying_ Adora has been about her diet since Huntara came around?”

One day, when it’s funny and the world seems less prone to shattering around them, Glimmer thinks she’ll tell Catra all about how Adora _swooned_ over Huntara when they first met. But that day is certainly not today.

“Tell me about it,” Catra sighs, “They have some weird pissing contest now! It’s hilarious when Adora beats Seahawk in an arm wrestling match, but she’s so determined to beat Huntara that it’s not funny anymore.”

“And now she’s all about ‘protein’ and ‘bulking up her muscle’ to try to beat her,” Glimmer shakes her head. “You know only the princess of power and literal _strength_ would still try to add more muscle!”

“Yeah, well, that’s Adora for you.”

It seems like they both remember at the same time the ugly truth—Adora isn’t She-Ra anymore. Avoiding the topic of their current predicament feels inevitable.

But damn, is Catra going to try.

“Anyway. The Bright Moon Celebration of Ice Cream sounds stupid. You people will use anything as an excuse to celebrate.”

“I’m sorry ‘you people’?” Glimmer repeats, voice incredulous, “Do I need to remind you that you’re one of us now? Hm, _princess_ Catra?”

Glimmer means it as a joke and she’s a little confused as to why Catra’s face falls at her words, a somber air filling the room.

Catra would very much like to control herself, to push the feeling of anger and rejection from the forefront of her mind but…fuck it. “Am I? Cause it sure as hell hasn’t felt like it.”

“Catra,” Glimmer frowns, standing up. “If this is about the Heart-“

“Of course it’s about the Heart!” Catra hisses, looking down at her and rising from her seat on the windowsill, “What else would it be about?”

“Look, I know it-I- _whatever_ , I shouldn’t have done it! But no one pushed you out, Catra! You pushed yourself out because you’re the only one who didn’t think it was a good idea!”

Oh. _Oh-_ does that boil Catra’s blood. “Yeah and that’s the problem! You guys only listen to me when it’s convenient for _you_. You were all welcoming and sappy and shit and swear we’re some stupid family or best friends but the moment shit gets hard you don’t waste any time pulling the whole ‘only the ones who are connected to stupid magical rocks have a say’ card!”

“Stupid magical _rocks_?” Glimmer repeats, outraged, “They’re elemental runestones! Just because you’re jealous-“

“I’m not jealous! _I_ still have my power here because I don’t get it from. A. Stupid. Fucking. Rock. Why would I be jealous?” Catra huffs, “Not to mention, not everyone was onboard with your stupid plan!”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re just mad that my father and Adora both agreed that we had to actually do something!”

It’s a slip, really. _My father._ It’s happened more than once since Catra was officially welcomed into the royal family. It doesn’t bother her, not really. It’s understandable, a human slip of the tongue. Hell, even she slips sometimes and talks about the Horde as if she’s still part of it.

Plus, Glimmer more than makes up for it with her constant insistence that she’s the older sister.

“I mean, _our_ dad.” Glimmer amends quickly but she’s still very obviously irritated.

It was an honest mistake. But it just solidifies the hurt that’s been eating at Catra. It magnifies the intensity of her conversation with Prime. Did she ever even really fit in at Bright Moon?

Catra loves them. And they love her. But love alone isn’t enough. Love doesn’t mean…she belongs there.

And clearly love doesn’t mean she matters more to Adora than some stupid harebrained scheme from Glimmer.

“Yeah? Well fine, we’ll play it your way: I had to watch _your_ mother almost get the life sucked out of her because you were being moron!” Catra fires back.

“Come on, Catra, I didn’t mean that!”

“And you know what, okay. You have Adora. And Micah. And Scorpia too, now, apparently. But your little boyfriend knows you were wrong and I bet that’s eating you up, isn’t it?” Catra turns viscous, scathing and taunting.

The way Glimmer visibly stiffens at that, lip trembling and gasping sharply feels almost like a victory for Catra. Almost. But it’s fleeting. And when it’s over she’s left just feeling like shit.

That’s something the old Catra would’ve said. She’s not supposed to be that Catra anymore. And yet…

_They couldn’t heal you. Not like I can._

Prime’s offer looms in her mind like a dark cloud in her mind. Not because she’s got any desire to take him up on it, but because…maybe it makes everything true. Maybe she hasn’t changed as much as she hoped. Maybe she isn’t someone _worth_ listening to.

But then Glimmer says something, burning and true in a way Catra can’t begin to fathom.

“You know what? Fine! I tried to be more like you and it obviously didn’t work!” Glimmer exclaims, tears falling freely. “I fucked up. There, are you happy?”

She turns her back to Catra then. She slides down the cool metal of the wall until she’s sitting on the floor.

“…What?” Is all Catra can ask because she’s truly stupefied.

“You heard me.” Glimmer huffs, pulling her knees to her chest, but she repeats it anyway, “I just…wanted to save everyone. Like you did.”

The air between them is stilted, silent and absolutely horrible. For a terrifyingly long moment, Glimmer worries this is it. That Catra will just leave her to cry on the floor, and bask in the knowledge that Glimmer is the one who was jealous of _her_.

She jumps a bit when Catra heaves herself off of the window sill, standing next to where Glimmer sits on the floor. “But it didn’t work. It still got the message to Prime. I didn’t save anyone.”

“Oh shut up. Yes it _did_. It’s not your fault the message got sent, it was just some weird fluke and everyone knows that! And besides, you saved _our_ dad like a million times…and it’s just not fair,” Glimmer huffs.

“Uh huh…so what? You wanted me to let him fall off that cliff?” Catra asks, voice dry as she takes a seat on the floor next to Glimmer. “Gee, it sure is hard to compete with you for Daughter of the Year.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glimmer rolls her eyes, “It’s just…I grew up wanting to lead the Rebellion. Like my dad. I wanted to be the one who ended the war and beat the Horde. Or at least…feel more like I had a part of it. But then Adora showed up as She-Ra and everyone only listened to her or to my mom. And then…then you came out of nowhere, _honestly._ Like, did not see that coming at all.”

“Okay, I get it,” Catra cross her arms with a huff, but she’s not truly offended.

“I mean. Seriously. It was like you just…showed up and fixed everything. You brought my dad back. You made us a family again. And then you basically beat the Horde by yourself. Not to mention how you made Adora smile more in the last six months than she has in the last _two years_ ,” Glimmer lists and Catra flushes at that. She’s not great at accepting comments on a good day, but getting them one right after the other from Glimmer—who she’s _supposed_ to be mad at right now is a whole new level of challenging. “And it just…sort of felt like you did it all. And that I failed because I didn’t really…do anything. So when this came up I thought, ‘wow, this is finally my chance. I can save everyone, too.’”

Glimmer stares straight ahead, tears still flowing freely from her eyes.

Catra’s heart pounds in her chest, stuck between not quite believing what Glimmer’s saying but also understanding it perfectly.

“But of course, I couldn’t even do that. And now we’re stuck here,” Glimmer finishes, gesturing lamely to their room. “And I don’t know how to get us out of this. I hate it-I hate that you have to pretend to go along with Prime and you won’t even talk about it—”

Glimmer’s tears pitch her voice higher, building up to what Catra worries will be full on sobbing if she doesn’t intervene.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on there,” Catra nudges her with her shoulder, “First of all…I get it. I mean. My whole life I’ve had to fight for a place at the table. I always had to prove myself to people. First to the Force Captains, then there’s _Shadow Weaver_ , then to Hordak and then…to everyone when I came to Bright Moon. I mean, that’s why I did everything I did back in the Fright Zone. I felt like it was like…my act of service to everyone, or whatever…but I know what it’s like. And I was jealous of _you_ because I thought you just…got everything.”

“Hey-“

“Point is, I didn’t know you felt it too.”

“Yeah, well, it sucks.” Glimmer sighs.

Catra laughs at that, sharp but genuine, “Yeah, no kidding.”

There’s another beat of silence between them, but it’s less hurtful and more calming.

“And…don’t worry about me and Prime, alright?” Catra shoulders her again, “I got this handled, so don’t get all soft on me now Sparkles.”

It’s a lie. Catra most certainly does _not_ have this handled.

Glimmer makes some retort about how _that’ll never happen_ , even as she rests her head on Catra’s shoulder for comfort. It’s nice. Catra doesn’t hate it and doesn’t push her away either.

Something fierce and protective surges in her at the action. She won’t let anything happen to Glimmer. Prime isn’t going to lay a hand on her, not unless he wants to watch Catra burn his precious clones one by one.

They’re getting off this ship. Catra has no idea how, but she’ll find a way.

She always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't super sure how interested people would be in a continuation of exile but ahhhh I'm so blown away by everyone's response to this fic!! thanks for reading & this is my humble request not to hate me too much for what comes next


	3. ash

Catra would never really describe herself as a ‘protector’. A survivalist, maybe. But not a protector. Not even after destroying the portal to keep the ones she cares about safe. Maybe she meets the very definition of the word but… 

It feels too nice. Too heroic. Like if she were to genuinely accept that as a label for herself, she’d be getting away with something. Somehow.

Maybe she doesn’t want anyone to view her in that light because…if they do, it’ll only make her next slip up that much more devastating. While she can’t quite allow herself to lean into a positive attribute, she’s beginning to return to that familiar fear that at her core there is something dark and biting. Impure. Selfish.

Formerly, she was able to pin that darkness on being betrayed by her best friend or the litany of abuses she faced at the hands of the Horde. But…things were better. They were supposed to be, at least. 

The scars still linger. She still loses her temper or overreacts. Still feels jealous even if she knows, logically, there is no real threat. And maybe she could begrudgingly admit on a good day that she has… _possibly_ changed for the better…she isn’t where she should be. 

Scorpia and Adora were both in the Horde and adjusted to life in Bright Moon way quicker than she had. Hell, even Lonnie and Rogelio and _Kyle_ seemed to handle the ghosts of their past better. 

And it’s more annoying now because she actually _tries._ She doesn’t let her feelings eat her away inside, communicates them as best she can even if it’s not always perfect. She at least tries to fight against the label and break the mold of the monster so many have tried to shape her into but…she still feels hurt. Insignificant. Like everyone who surrounds her is merely putting on an act to show her they care just so she doesn’t lash out again. 

Not all the time but…sometimes. Certainly after the Heart. How else was she _supposed_ to feel? Everyone said one thing, but then did the complete opposite. Everyone said they cared about her, _loved_ her even, but then…they left.

Everyone always leaves. Always chooses some greater good over her. Maybe, she fears, it’s because she really isn’t good. And they all can see that, so _obviously_ they’d go running at the first sign of trouble. 

_Insecurities_. One time she had tried to voice these thoughts—the ones she wasn’t _too_ ashamed of, anyway, to Micah. In his determined speech about how much Catra has grown and how proud he is, which, first of all: _ugh_ . But he used that word. She never considered herself to have _insecurities_ but it sounded like that's what they were. Close enough, at least. And it was helpful to be able to name what she was feeling. 

The problem is that Micah only sees of her what she chooses to show. Only hears what she chooses to disclose. She worries that maybe if he knew the depth of her insecurities, he wouldn’t feel so proud of her. 

But…whatever. 

So maybe Catra isn’t some grand protector. But she _is_ stealthy. And it’s her stealth that allows her to sneak around Prime’s ship, silently follow a few clones into some off-limits forbidden room, study the movements of the clones carefully as they operate some sort of panel and— 

_Bingo._

It’s a transport pad. That’s how Prime has been sending more clones to Etheria. Not only that, but it might just be their ticket off of this hellscape of a ship. The only problem being that someone has to operate the control panel. Her and Glimmer can’t both go at once. Which poses a problem.

She’s in the middle of trying to unriddle that mess when Prime calls her in and demands for any information on an ancient ship that’s fast approaching. It takes her less than half of a second to recognize Darla. 

Despite how hard she tries, she’s unable to swallow her reaction. The outrageous mix of emotions when she sees that ship. She knows Adora is on it. She feels hopeful—like it’s a good thing. Weirdly proud that they managed to get that ship space-bound again. But…when she hears Prime’s amusement at She-Ra’s impending arrival she recognizes it for what it truly is: a death march. 

Adora can’t come here. Adora can’t save them. Prime is too prepared, and if he gets his hands on Adora…it’s game over. 

And Catra was… _is_ still mad at Adora. As much as she may want to deny it, that anger is there. Lingering beneath the surface. But the anger is a drop in the ocean compared to everything else Catra feels for Adora.

She’s afraid, mainly. Afraid Adora will charge headfirst into this and Catra will have no choice but to watch what Prime has planned for her.

Sad, too. Sad that their last interaction had been a fight with cheap digs and deflections of the real issue. She regrets pushing Adora away. She knew Adora needed her but she was just…so angry she couldn’t think straight. 

And now that there’s nothing but space between them, that anger has faded into something much softer. Catra _misses_ her. Misses her goofy, lovable girlfriend. Misses waking up cuddled next to her, lacing their fingers together underneath the table at meals just to see her blush, she misses _teasing_ Adora.

She’s still hurt. She spends a good majority of her time looking out the window, watching the stars and wondering if she’ll ever be enough. If she’ll ever matter more than some heroic quest but…even if she never does, Adora still matters _more_ to her.

Maybe Catra should’ve told her as much. Maybe now she’ll never get the chance.

Her mind is spinning when she’s escorted back to her room. They have to do something and they have to do it now.

They have to stop Adora. 

Well, maybe not _they._ If Catra drags Glimmer into this, Prime will likely do something to her just to torture Catra.

No, Catra has to protect Glimmer.

An idea strikes her. Perfect solutions rarely exist in the world but, for once, Catra might just be able to kill two birds with one stone. She can protect Adora _and_ Glimmer in one fell swoop.

“Come on, we have to go. Now!” Catra demands, impatience growing as Glimmer just blinks at her in surprise. 

Not that Catra can blame her exactly—she stormed the room in a hurry and has pulled Glimmer out of whatever deep-thought trance she’d been in. But they don’t have time to lose. 

“Go? Go where? What’s going on?” Glimmer asks. 

“Adora’s on her way here,” Catra breathes. Glimmer goes wide-eyed in response, surely working her way through the range of emotions Catra had earlier, but _no time._

“But-she-Prime,” Glimmer stammers, pieces clicking together seamlessly.

“Yeah, I know!” Catra yells back, “But I have a plan. So move your ass.”

She grabs Glimmer's hand and leads them down the corridor. She’s carefully elusive about the details of her plan. Catra knows Glimmer will try to talk her out of it and—yeah. _No time_.

Glimmer pesters her with questions regardless. Even as they fight through a small group of clones and Catra tugs her into the room with the transportation pad. She runs to the monitor first, recalling the movements the clones had previously used to access it and shuts the door behind them.

“Catra! What are you doing?” Glimmer’s voice is nearly a shriek which Catra can’t really fault her for after ignoring her barrage of questions. “What’s the plan?”

“If Adora comes here, Prime will kill her on sight. _Especially_ without She-Ra. But you know Adora won’t stop until she gets you back—”

“Not just me, you too!”

“ _I’m_ not part of the violent superweapon that Prime needs in order to activate the Heart!” Catra hisses, “As long as you’re here on this ship, Etheria is in danger. So _we_ are going to get _you_ out of here, got it?”

Catra pushes Glimmer backwards onto the pad, ready to turn to the monitor and boot up the deployment sequence. But Glimmer catches her arm and doesn’t let go, “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving here without you!” 

Catra sighs at that, but shakes her head. Now is not the time to be oddly _touched_ by the sentiment. “Only one person can go at a time, Glimmer. Someone has to operate the panel-“ 

“So it should be me!” Glimmer cries furiously, “You’re only here because I dragged you into this mess! You can’t stay here-you know what Prime will do to you!” 

And _oh_ does Catra know. But what alternative is there? It’s her or Glimmer. Either she makes this choice now or they delay the inevitable and someone else makes the choice for them later down the line. And she can’t bear to watch Glimmer be chosen over her again. 

“It doesn’t matter what he does to me. They need you more than they need me,” Catra shakes her head. It’s true, so true that the words leave a trail of goosebumps across her skin.

“ _The Heart_ doesn’t matter! Not without She-Ra,” Glimmer argues. 

“You don’t need She-Ra. You have Adora, and she’s more than enough,” Catra corrects, voice sharp, “So don’t let her forget that. Alright?”

Tears, real, genuine tears fall down Glimmer’s face, “Catra-“ 

They don’t have time. But Catra has something she needs to say. Directions she needs to impart to Glimmer. Because…if she’s not getting back to Bright Moon, someone’s got to take care of things in her absence.

“And… _don’t_ let Micah stay in the library all day, either, cause he’ll try. Remember to take it easy on Angella,” Catra directs, voice wavering. It’s the closest thing she’ll get to actual goodbyes. “She gives you a hard time. But it’s just because she cares. A lot.”

That’s the version of Angella that Catra wants to remember. The caring, overly doting and cautious way she’d look after Glimmer. And the way she’d do the same for Catra but _try_ to act cool about it.

“And let Frosta be the big sister every now and then. Got it?”

Clones are approaching, Catra can discern their heavy footsteps from the hallway.

“I can’t Catra,” Glimmer refuses, “I can’t go back to Bright Moon without you. It’s not _home_ without you!” 

That stings. That stings a _lot_. It makes a fresh set of tears spring to Catra’s eyes. But it’s too late. Even if it’s true, it’s too late now. She scoffs only for the sake of preventing tears from falling.

She slides a hand to the back of her head, hand searching for the hair tie that's always there. Angella’s. The one that Catra and Glimmer had fought over. In a moment of kindness that was rare for her at the time, Catra had offered it back to Glimmer.

 _“Don’t be silly. I never wanted the hair tie. But… I_ have _always wanted to be a big sister!”_

But now….Catra has a gut feeling Prime will just ruin it. Even if it brings her comfort, she can’t hold onto it. She pulls her hair free and folds Glimmer’s hand over the band.

“What did you tell me last night?” Catra asks, willing her voice to sound angry and snappish. She can’t cry in front of Glimmer right now. “You told me you want to end this war, right? So get back there and _end it_!”

Catra shoves her backwards and the green barrier rises between them. Glimmer continues to object, to pound against the divide, but Catra can’t let herself listen. The clones are beginning to bang the door down.

With razor sharp focus, she begins the sequence. Praying what she remembers from her time on Darla and her time spent in Entrapta’s lab can help her navigate this shit-

And exhaling with relief when the call goes through, “Adora?”

“Catra!” Adora’s voice, even through the muffled speaker, is such a welcome sound. Even in this moment, where the clones have begun tearing their way in and Catra has sealed her own fate…it brings her comfort. “Catra, thank _god_ —we’re coming to get you. Just hang on-“

“I need you to listen to me!” Catra cuts her off in a panic as the door bursts down, “I’m sending Glimmer to you. I don’t have your exact coordinates but I can get her close enough. You _have_ to be ready to catch her!”

She types furiously away at the screen below her as Adora asks, “Glimmer? Catra, how-”

They’re through the door now. That’s fine, it’s fine, Catra is almost ready-

“Adora, you can’t come here. Prime is ready for you. Get Glimmer and go back to Etheria—”

“Catra, what? What’s going on?“

“Adora, _please_ ,” Catra hates begging. _Hates_ it with a passion. It makes her feel weak, vulnerable. Adora knows this, maybe it’ll be enough to get her to listen, “Please just listen. No matter what, you can’t come here! If you’re ever going to listen to me, _now_ is the time!”

It’s the last time, too.

The clones descend upon her and Catra starts fighting, punching and barely able to hear Adora’s protests. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you there!”

“If you come here, everyone on Etheria is _fucked_ ,” Catra cries, struggle intensifying when two clones grab her by the arms and try to pull her away from the monitor. Maybe _that_ will get her to listen. Noble Adora and her savior complex. The thought filled her with bitterness just a day ago, now she just smiles sadly at the screen.

“Listen, Adora, I- _Etheria_ needs you.” Catra tries to comfort despite the way her body is fighting against the hold of the clones, “And…I’m sorry. I never said this before. But no matter _who_ you are or what you do—I love you. Always.”

With renewed vigor, she slams her hand down on the monitor, pressing the final button and watching as Glimmer disappears. She hears Adora’s voice—a cry of _no_ and _Catra_ before the call disconnects. It’s only a matter of seconds in overlap, but Catra is too busy fighting off clones to really hear her.

And now that Glimmer is safely off the ship, there is nothing stopping Catra from reducing everything she can touch to ash and ember. With a great pulling force, she drives her elbow down into the lower abdominal area of one of the clones, trail of flames following behind it.

She knows it’s fruitless. She can’t stop him by herself and Prime will ultimately recoup whatever losses she incurs. But she _can_ slow him down. Burn enough of his resources, buy the Rebellion a bit more time to figure their shit out.

Catra knows this is a fight she’ll lose but she sure as hell isn’t going to go quietly.

* * *

“Entrapta, no. We don’t have time for that!” Adora knows her voice is a bit too harsh, scathing and cutting in a way that Entrapta most certainly does not deserve.

But her patience has worn thin. The sheer relief of having Glimmer back faded too quickly upon her tearful relay of the events on Prime’s ship. Any sense of victory is sharply undercut by the fact that Catra simply isn’t with her.

 _“It’s like she was saying goodbye. She told me to look after everyone. In her own…_ Catra _way, of course.” Glimmer murmured from where they were huddled together on the floor._

_Adora gasped when Glimmer uncurled her fist, revealing Catra’s hair band. Catra would never willingly give that up. Not unless…_

" _No,” Adora shook her head, “We’re not letting it be a goodbye. I know what she said about Prime but…”_

_"I know,” It was Bow who spoke, much to Adora’s surprise. She didn’t doubt he’d be onboard for going back for her, but he is the least close with her out of everyone on the ship. So the integrity and determination behind his voice is a little surprising. “We’re going back for her.”_

_This offered some comfort to Glimmer, too. She exhaled with a shaky relief, sliding the band over her wrist to keep it safe. “Guys, I’m so sorry. For everything that happened on Etheria. For the Heart and then for just—going to the Kingdom of the Snows. I never meant to bring Catra, she just—it just happened! And I tried to tell her it should be me who stayed behind on the ship, but she just wouldn’t listen. And now—”_

 _"_ _Now we’ll get her back. And everything will be back to the way it was,” Bow said. And his words felt like they should be comforting and hopeful, but his tone was sharp and final. He broke away from their huddle and ignored the way Glimmer had reached out for him._

Adora knows he’d been so concerned about getting Glimmer back that he hyper-focused on it and never really processed his feelings.

That was something she could relate to.

But still, they all agreed to head right back to Prime’s ship except now Entrapta is telling them they’re low—too low on some crystals they need for fuel.

“Adora,” Bow’s voice is a bit less intense when directed at her rather than Glimmer, but it’s still as firm and commanding as it had been on Etheria. “We won’t make it to Prime’s ship if we don’t stop for these crystals.”

“Are you sure we don’t have enough to last us until after we get Catra?” Adora turns to Entrapta, voice desperate.

Entrapta opens her mouth to respond, but Bow cuts in again, “ _Adora._ Do you know how dangerous that is? We’re already going in there without She-Ra-“ 

“You don’t have to tell me that!” Adora snaps, “I _know_ we don’t have She-Ra!”

And _woah._ She’s taken aback by her own tone. Everyone is looking at her with wide eyes and her chest heaves, feeling miserable. And angry. And frustrated. And impatient and _why_ the hell didn’t she say she loved Catra back? Why did she just stand there, gaping like an idiot and arguing with her? What if she never gets the chance now?

Why didn’t she just _listen_ to Catra about the Heart? If she were in a clearer state of mind, she’d remember how impossible it would’ve been to try to stop Glimmer regardless but, still. Guilt doesn’t always ride on the basis of sense and logic.

Bow’s eyes soften sympathetically. He opens his mouth to speak again, but it’s Glimmer who interrupts, 

“We’ll get her back,” Glimmer opens her eyes, aiming for optimism. But there’s fear there, “I know we will. But Bow’s right. If we want to get out of there _safely_ we need to get fuel first.” 

If Bow appreciates her support, he shows it only in the briefest of smiles.

Adora sighs. “Fine. Entrapta, make it quick.”

“Got it! Darla, let’s do this!”

She can’t be there anymore. In the hull with everyone. “I…need a minute. Alone.” She adds the last word when Bow and Glimmer both make a move to follow her. “Let me know when we’re close to landing.”

Part of her feels even guiltier as she walks away. She should be happy that Glimmer is okay. But…part of her still feels so _angry._ She knows it’s not Glimmers fault—knows she would’ve never activated the Heart if she knew what would come of it. Trusts that Glimmer is sincere in her apology. Believes that Glimmer didn’t have a choice in the matter of leaving Prime’s ship, either.

Glimmer wouldn’t have just left Catra behind if she had any choice in the matter. So she’s not _mad_ at Glimmer, but she isn’t…thrilled either. Part of her is upset with Catra too. Maybe there’s no reason for her to be—maybe she’s really just upset with herself. She’s just upset that Catra isn’t here. _She should be here._

She-Ra should be here too. How the hell is she going to get Catra back on her own? Adora should’ve insisted that Micah come along. Catra won’t listen to her. Adora isn’t certain she even deserves to have Catra listen to her. But she’d listen to Micah. Micah could get her back.

Adora isn’t so sure she’ll be able to. It infuriates her; her own inability. She doesn’t care what anyone has to say—not Micah, or Bow. They _need_ She-Ra.

And if they…if _she_ doesn’t get Catra back, she knows the responsibility rests squarely on her shoulders.

* * *

Catra is on her knees before Prime’s throne. Not willingly. Only because the Clones she hadn’t managed to incapacitate have more or less thrown her in front of him.

She used all of her energy to destroying all her flames could touch on the ship. At the very least, Prime will have a hard time sending clones to Etheria—the transportation room certainly got the brunt of her fire. She’s proud to know that she was able to do a bit of damage to the arduous hallways as well.

Ashes cover her face. Her hair smells like soot. She’s incinerated pieces of her own clothing. But one look at how _pissed_ Prime is above her—seething with quiet rage, she knows it was well worth it.

"Little sister,” He speaks without quite moving, “The Etherian ship has changed course. Though, I’m sure that is of no surprise to you.”

_Changed course._ Catra isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or sad about that. Now that she’s expended all of her energy, done all of the damage she can possibly do, used every last piece of her resistance to inconvenience Prime, she just feels…alone.

Alone, at the end of the line.

And while she doesn’t regret anything, it feels a bit depressing.

The toe of his boot lifts her chin up and she does her best to fix him with a heavy glare. “I fear your pain is far worse than I anticipated. Still defending those who continue to leave you behind, lashing out against the only one who has ever celebrated your worth.”

Her eye twitches at that. She doesn’t need to pretend, not anymore. He rises from his throne, lurking over her.

“You continue to destroy yourself. And all for nothing, I’m afraid. Your petty attempts at treachery will not stall me for long. I’ve already warned you, I _will_ have my victory. The Heart of Etheria will be mine and all of those who inhabit your pathetic little planet will be brought into the peace of my light.”

Behind her, she can make out the sound of the remaining clones chanting some obnoxious prophetic garbage about the egotistical militant in front of her.

“I gave you a choice. I offered you everything. And this is how you choose to show your gratitude?”

He’s glaring down at her in anticipation.

And here she is—former Horde officer. Former _princess_ of Bright Moon. With nothing left to lose, she does the only thing she knows how.

She laughs. _A lot_.

He blinks down at her, shocked by her mirth. But it’s hilarious. He was so adamant that she couldn’t outsmart him and yet that’s exactly what she did.

“What did you expect? I mean, aren’t you supposed to know _everything_ ?” She cackles dryly at him. “You said it yourself. I wanted to protect them, that's why I tried to stop you from getting to Etheria. You think one little spat is going to change that? They’re my _family._ And I’m not letting you hurt them.”

It was more than _one little spat_ , that’s for sure. More like several large explosions happening simultaneously. But that’s irrelevant.

Because _this_ is who she is. No matter what other people may think or expect of her, she’s loyal. She is hurt and angry and still feeling a bit betrayed by everything but…now that she has a family, selling them out is unfathomable.

At the end of the day, even when those insecurities creep up on her and she feels like she doesn’t matter to anyone—they still matter to her.

If there’s one thing she’s learned from this whole stupid never-ending war, it’s that when you truly love someone, you don’t hurt them. Even if they swing first.

He breathes a few steadying breaths. Clearly trying to prevent himself from getting too enraged at her insolence. Then he leans down and grabs her face in his hand, tilting her chin up and evaluating her, “You poor, helpless creature. So consumed by darkness, so very manipulated by those who’ve hurt you that you’re still protecting them.”

Then his smile turns wide, eyes a bit wild. It’s bone-chilling and predatory.

“So _very_ smart. Yet you continue to miscalculate your place in their life. Truly a pity,” He shakes his head, grin growing impossibly wider. “Do not fret, dear sister. I told you I am a merciful leader. I will still bring you into my light and alleviate your pain.”

That…can’t be right. He’s supposed to kill her, or whatever. Not keep going on his stupid rant about ‘soothing her inner wounds’.

She recoils, moving her head back, but his other hand has come up to the back of her neck. Moving away is impossible. “Wh-what?”

The clones behind her start chanting again. _Cast out the shadows._

“Oh yes little sister. Surely, you didn’t think I’d just discard of you, did you? Everyone has a place in my empire,” His hand tightens around her chin. “There is no darkness that my light cannot pierce. Not even you.”

_Cast out the shadows._

Fear courses through her. She can’t imagine what that means. There’s no way she’ll _willingly_ stand by his side. And there’s nothing she has left to lose. Without Glimmer here, he has no bargaining chip against her.

_Cast out the shadows._

“I think it’s time to show your _family_ the true depths of your loyalty.”

_C_ _ast out the shadows._

* * *

“If your friend is with Prime it’s too late.” Jewelstar tells Adora. 

Adora stammers out a response, “Catra’s not my friend. She’s my girlfriend. I-I mean she _was._ My girlfriend. But then we had to activate the Heart and I…messed up. But then she saved Glimmer and she told me she still loves me so maybe she’s not that mad anymore and-uh. Yeah. It’s complicated.”

She ignores the comment Tallstar makes about everything being _complicated_ with her..

Instead she fixates on what Jewelstar says next, “Girlfriend or not. There’s no point in going back for her. She’s gone. No one stands up to Horde Prime and survives. I’m sorry.”

_No point._ And that…the thought of that makes her angry. She tries her best not to let it show and remind herself that he doesn’t know Catra. He’s just trying to be practical.

She guesses that makes sense but…this is _Catra_ . Catra survived Beast Island. Catra survived the Horde longer than Adora had. Catra survived facing off against Hordak and Shadow Weaver _alone_.

Adora forces herself to focus on all that Catra has survived. Which is, honestly, a whole lot.

It helps a little bit. It’s all she really has. She’s mainly just relieved when they get the Thulite crystals and finally head back to the ship. At least the detour wasn’t totally awash. And the Rebellion has three new, intergalactic members.

Still. It’s hard to hold onto optimism when her nerves are fraying and it’s time to actually chart a course for Prime’s ship. She felt some sort of…magic today. It was the closest thing she’s felt to She-Ra in what feels like forever, but it’s still _not_ She-Ra. Not entirely.

From what Glimmer tells her about Prime…and what she heard over the transmission with Catra, this feels like it’s their biggest battle yet. A little bit of random magic isn’t going to get them out of this.

Speaking of battles, this has got to be the third or fourth time Glimmer and Bow have argued today. Adora sort of hoped they had been done after Bow helped her secure the Thulite, but apparently that was a premature judgement. 

“The point is, Catra wasn’t wrong to be mad,” Bow says to Glimmer heatedly. Adora is trying hard not to overhear but…it’s a small space. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to warn you guys not to do something dangerous and stupid only to get ignored?”

Adora winces. It’s not directed at her. Bow isn’t upset with her. But it’s still…true.

“I know, and you have every right to be mad! I made a mistake activating the Heart. I should’ve slowed down,” Glimmer admits. “I just wanted to…prove myself.”

“Prove yourself? To who?” Bow asks, brow furrowing.

“Everyone! My parents, the Rebellion…”

"You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Glimmer. Especially not to me.”

“I know that now. But…I guess I just didn’t. Before. And I’m sorry. Not just for the Heart. But for _every time_ I didn’t listen to you. You get to be upset. For as long as you need to be. Even if that means…things will never go back to the way they used to be for us….” She takes a steadying breath before continuing, “ I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here, whenever you’re ready.”

Glimmer moves to turn away, but Bow catches her hand just before she does. He contemplates her words for a second before giving her a soft smile and saying, “Okay.”

Adora watches with her own smile as Bow and Glimmer make-up. She’s happy for them. _Really_ , she is. But she feels something in her heart break at the interaction. She so badly wants that for her and Catra—a reunion and a resolution. 

If Catra thought Adora had been annoying and overly watchful after the portal, _whooh_ man is she in for it after this is all over. Adora knows, realistically, she’ll have to let Catra out of her sight at some point but...all she can think about right now is never letting her go.

Her brain, sharp and scathing, tells her she never should’ve let Catra go in the first place. Should’ve followed her to her room after the Rebellion meeting. Done something, _anything,_ to keep her from ever getting taken with Glimmer.

Everyone had told her to give Catra space after their fight. But that isn’t what kept Adora away, not completely. The truth is that she had been so afraid of what would happen if they spoke again. If Catra truly believed everything she said to her, then Adora can’t imagine why Catra _wouldn’t_ break up with her and never want to see her again.

Adora really believed they had grown past all of that. Especially in the months following the portal. After all the time they’ve spent together, how could Catra ever even doubt the way Adora felt for her?

She’s just so…bad at showing her feelings. Or even just talking about them. She had been trying. Using techniques Perfuma taught her about, or seeing how Bow and Glimmer communicated with each other. Or Angella and Micah.

But obviously she wasn’t trying hard enough. In fact, she’d been _so_ bad at it that not only did she fail to show Catra how much she cared, she sent her in the complete opposite direction entirely. 

Adora did listen to Glimmer instead of Catra, but that was _one_ time. Whatever doubts Catra had must’ve been building for a while and couldn’t have come from that incident alone. Not only that, but it’s almost like things were back in the Horde. With Adora on some pedestal and Catra constantly feeling insignificant in comparison. Adora never wanted that—not back then and definitely not now. She’s not just some ‘sidekick’ or some anchoring force for Adora to run to when everything goes wrong.

Saving the universe isn’t what matters the most to her. Catra means so much to her that it leaves her reeling sometimes. Frowning, she realizes she never made that clear enough.

She turns around, looking back at the monitor before the tears can fall—

“Adora?” But of course Glimmer notices, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Adora shakes her head, looking down. “I’m fine.”

She can’t look at either of them right now or she really _will_ start crying and she doesn’t want to ruin their moment-

Bow and Glimmer exchange a nervous glance. “It’s _okay_ if you’re not okay. I know you’re worried about Catra.”

“Jewelstar said no one stands up to Prime and survives,” Adora grips the edge of the monitor a bit tighter.

“Hey, come on,” Bow puts his hand on her shoulder and turns her towards them, “That’s what _you_ said about Beast Island.”

Adora gives him a watery smile. “Yeah but I was She-Ra then.”

“Come on, we don’t need She-Ra,” Glimmer tries.

Staunchly, Adora shakes her head. She’s tired of having this conversation, “No, I’m not-”

“ _Catra_ said so.”

Adora widens her eyes at Glimmer’s confession, protests dying in her mouth. The words wouldn’t be so surprising a year ago—given how openly Catra disliked She-Ra. But she had come around—she accepted She-Ra. _Liked_ She-Ra, even.

“Wh-what? When did she say that?”

“Right before she opened the transmission,” Glimmer confirms, voice very serious. Her eyes are shining, “She said that we don’t need She-Ra as long as we have you. That you’re more than enough.”

Words. They’re just words. But they manage to knock the wind out of Adora because...Catra still thought that. Even after Adora let her down. Catra still _loved_ her. 

“She really said that?” Adora asks, voice hopeful and a little shaky.

Glimmer nods, “ _And_ she told me not to let you forget it. So…I’ll say it a thousand more times before we get to Prime’s ship if I have to. Got it?”

When Adora confirms with a shake of her head, tears fall from her eyes and she isn’t surprised at how quickly Bow and Glimmer pull her into a hug.

“It’s time to get our fourth member back,” Bow speaks confidently, pulling everyone tighter into the hug, “Best Friend Squad style.”

And oh how Catra would _hate_ to be roped into that. Or at least pretend to.

“Even if said fourth member still exclusively refers to me as _Arrow Boy.”_

They laugh at that and…the self-doubt still lingers. But Catra believes in her. Miles away and in the face of great danger, Catra still believes in her. 

If Catra believes in her, Adora has no choice but to believe in herself.

* * *

“Guys guys guys _guys,_ ” Swift Wind comes barreling into Micah and Angella’s tent.

Miraculously, the King and Queen were allowing themselves a moment to rest. But are now looking fairly startled by Swift Wind’s presence, faces falling unimpressively at the way he has torn a hole into the entrance of their tent. 

“I _felt_ it,” He wastes no time in explaining, “I felt her, I felt She-Ra!” 

Micah and Angella blink once at him, then at each other. That feels highly unlikely. The shattered sword is still here on Etheria. If Adora were to somehow get She-Ra back, why would it be in _space_ of all places? 

“What? You don’t believe me?” He scoffs indignantly, “I’ll have you know—”

“Guys guys guys _guys_ ,” Scorpia comes running into the tent after him, “Uh-I mean, your majesties, of course.”

“Yes Scorpia,” Angella says tiredly, “We heard the news. Swift Wind has reported that She-Ra is back.” 

“She is!” Swift Wind reaffirms, sensing the Queen’s doubt. 

“Oh. Um. That’s great and all but…Lord Prime is doing that uh, loud-project-y thing he did before the ship took off and uh. He seems kinda angry.” 

A solemn, silent air falls between them as they all run out of the tent, to the overlook of their camp where they, sure enough, see Lord Prime in all of his massive, 50 foot projected ‘glory’. 

Micah crosses his arm with a sigh, “Honestly. What sort of egotistical maniac needs _that_ large of a projection of himself?”

“He’s committed mass genocide across countless planets. I doubt narcissism is far from being the most offensive atrocity he’s committed dear,” Angella deadpans next to him. 

“People of Etheria. Your leaders have abandoned you. Your She-Ra has left you behind. Whatever lingering members of your so-called Rebellion remain have gone into hiding,” Prime relays, mock sympathy clear in his voice, “They would much rather cower and let you all suffer in eternal darkness.”

Angella curls her hand into a fist at that. She _hates_ these ridiculous ego-trips that Prime runs. Hates having to hide. She knows she is simply playing it safe, doing what she has to—but after playing it safe for so long, she can no longer take being mistaken for a coward. 

Especially when playing it safe has gotten her here—chased out of her own Kingdom, with both of daughters missing, staring at this awful bastard-

“But. Fear not. For I am capable of great empathy,” Prime lauds himself, “And I have graciously decided to remake your rudimentary world in the light of my image. No longer will you have to suffer in darkness. I will set you free of all that ails you. And together, you may bask in a world without war and know only peace.” 

Micah looks to Angella, unsure if what he’s saying is more of a threat or a promise.

“I understand it may be difficult to trust my word, as I am a mere stranger to your land,” Prime continues. Angella isn’t quite certain why, but her stomach swoops low with dread and anxiety extends to every bone in her body. Something tells her this isn’t a normal Prime broadcast. He’s got something planned. 

She grabs Micah’s hand for support.

“If you are wary of my word, I trust you will listen to the _only_ leader of your world to truly hold your best interests at heart.” 

“What? What does that mean?” Scorpia asks, other members of the Rebellion murmuring their confusion behind her. 

The _only_ leader? Micah furrows his brow, unsure what angle Prime is trying to work. 

“Come here, child,” Prime beckons to someone off screen.

Everyone stands in silent anticipation as they watch a figure, cloaked in all white and much smaller than Prime, walk to his side on the projection. Prime places an arm of their shoulder as they lift their arms and raise the hood off of their head— 

And then their world shatters, completely.

“People of Etheria,” Prime announces, “I present to you, your Princess of Bright Moon.” 

It can’t _be._

“No, no, no, _no_ ,” Angella gasps in horror because that person is-

“Catra,” Micah breathes her name like it’s been punched out of him.

“Ugh, can we just go one six-month period where we don’t worry about Catra being on the enemies side.” Mermista complains. 

“Um. I don’t think this is like how it was before,” Perfuma notes. “Look at her _eyes_.”

Gone are the heterochromatic colors of blue and yellow—instead replaced by a green, pupil-less glow. Angella brings her hand to her mouth to mask her breathless shriek, knees feeling suddenly very weak as she notices Catra’s hair. Or lack thereof. It’s _gone_ , cut so short that she looks like…with the uniform and the eyes…she looks like…

 _A clone._ The realization sends tears streaming down Angella’s face.

“Oh, wildcat,” Scorpia murmurs under her breath, “What did they do to you?” 

“Fellow Etherians,” Catra speaks. Her lips move and words fall out of her mouth but she doesn’t _sound_ like herself. She sounds robotic. “Do not hold any fear. Soon, all of your worries will come to an end.”

Prime moves his hand to the back of her neck, fingers possessively cradling the back of her head.

“Prime has taken me out of the darkness and chosen me to stand in his light,” Catra relays, voice sounding strained. At the new contact, Angella could _swear_ she sees Catra wince. “And he will do the same for all Etheria. Please, rejoice and welcome him so that we all may know peace. Together.”

“Okay. This is freaky,” Mermista comments, discontent and suddenly glad they ensured Frosta had long since fallen asleep. She didn’t need to see… _this._

“She-Ra has abandoned you,” Catra says, brows twitching—Prime’s fingers flexing from their position. “The King…and Queen….of Bright Moon cannot help you. Not like Lord Prime can.” 

Catra grits out the words, Micah feels his heart break as he watches her struggle. The unnatural state of her leaves him feeling helpless. She _loves_ her hair. They liked to tease her about cutting it whenever she woke up with a particularly bad case of bed head, but only because they knew how much she loved it. 

“Kid…” he whispers, grabbing onto Angella and holding tightly. He doesn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. He knows it isn’t _her_. These aren’t her sentiments.

He knows the type of leader Prime is. Flashy and a narcissist to boot. This is a show. A demonstration to show them what he’s capable of, to instill fear.

But that also means…Prime would go all out, if he could. If he _had_ both Catra and Glimmer, they would both be on the screen right now. Which means…Glimmer isn’t there. She must’ve escaped and Catra must’ve had something to do with it. Clearly, she’s paying the price now. 

Prime isn’t going for authenticity, either. He isn’t trying to convince anyone that this is truly _their_ Catra. He’s simply trying to show the consequences of rebellion.

“Take it from me. They will offer you nothing but false promises,” Catra’s voice rings out especially loud against the silence of the nighttime sky. “They…promised to help me. But they lied. They kept me prisoner for months and only increased my suffering. _Only_ Prime has been able to take away my pain. Only Prime will be able to grant us peace and let us bask in his light.” 

“The communicator!” The idea hits Angella suddenly, remembering the invention Entrapta designed to communicate with Primes ship. She _thinks_ she knows exactly where the princess had left it—turning away from the horrifying scene before her and running to the tent.

Micah is hot on her heels, calling out to Swift Wind, “Try to connect to Adora. Send her a message—we have to warn her: Catra’s been compromised.” 

“Sure, now you believe me!” Swift Wind shouts behind them. 

She can hear Prime and Catra behind her, but is too focused on rummaging through scraps and old tech to find the device. When she locates it, she recalls how Entrapta had showed her and Bow how it worked while Micah escorted Adora to her tent to rest. 

Hands shaking and fingers fumbling, she turns it on, looking at Micah with serious eyes as they look back at the projection. 

“Catra?” She breathes into the microphone, hearing an echo of static in return.

They look to the projection to see if it’s working, but Catra is unaffected by Prime’s side. It must have done _something_ though, Angella’s voice rings out from the intercom attached at Prime’s spire, and he visibly reacts with confusion on screen. 

Angella passes the device to Micah. If their daughter can hear them, he’s their best bet at breaking through whatever…this is, “Catra? Catra, can you hear us?” 

“What is going on?” Prime seethes from the projection, looking up where Micah’s voice has to be echoing from a speaker on his ship, “What is the meaning of this?” 

“Kid!” Micah’s voice is loud and abrupt in the microphone. He’s desperate to get her to listen, but she gives no indication that she’s even heard him. Despite the fact that the device clearly works and even Prime can hear them. Her gaze remains emotionless, untouched by their attempts to reach her. “Kid, listen, it’s _us_ . We’re here and we’re fighting for you, okay? So _don’t_ give into this lunatic—” 

“What is the source of this trickery?” Prime seethes on screen—and it’s useless. “Do not listen to these falsehoods-” 

Catra isn’t even reacting. She’s stuck so deeply in whatever…trance, whatever Prime has done to her that not even Micah can break through to her. 

Angella figures it’s only a few seconds more before Prime cuts either the signal or the projection off. And she gave Micah his chance, but she’s got to try again so she grabs Micah’s hand and leans into the speaker, 

“Catra, honey, you can’t let him into your head,” Angella pleads, although it is already much too late for that. “You’re much too resilient for that!”

“I think it’s working!” Scorpia shouts from the side of the overlook, pointing up at the projection. 

And Scorpia is _right_. Catra finally reacts to the words, brows furrowing in confusion as she tries to process them. She blinks harshly once, twice, three times and then and the green fades from her eyes. 

“That’s it,” Angella encourages, heart soaring with a mix of desperation and pride. The feeling intensifies when the green glow doesn’t immediately return. “You’ve got to _keep fighting_. Don’t give in.” 

Catra starts shaking, clearly battling whatever force Prime is using against her. 

“Please, Catra,” Angella is yelling now, “We love you.”

“Enough!” Prime commands and suddenly Catra is crying out in pain. It’s an alarming noise, green sparks flying behind her like she’s being _electrocuted_. She falls to her knees, clutching her sides. “See, little sister, they will only cause you more pain and threaten the peace I’ve granted you.” 

_Little sister._

“And now you’ve seen it for yourselves, how much suffering your leaders are capable of inflicting,” Prime directs his attention back to the monitor. “If they’re willing to inflict such misery on their so-called daughter, what will they do to the rest of you? Their loyal subjects?”

He grabs Catra, pulling her back up roughly. Angella and Micah feel their hearts crush when the green light is returned. She stares listlessly, not reacting to the iron grip Prime now has on her neck again.

Everyone on Etheria is forced to watch the display as Prime delivers the end of his speech, “Prepare to cast these false heroes aside and join us in creating a better world. Free of pain and darkness.” 

Ever so slowly, Catra nods beside him and declares, “Glory be to Horde Prime."

The projection shuts off, abruptly. Evidence that Prime hadn’t anticipated their interference. 

Angella collapses to her knees as Catra’s image fades into the starry background. Micah crouches down next to her, hands on either side of her shoulder.

Perhaps Prime was right. Maybe they’ve only succeeded in hurting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ponytail has been compromised /:


	4. when they pullled me apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: this chapter is VERY heavy on the angst, with references to mental/physical torture, canon-typical violence and a very vague mention of suicide. nothing here goes farther than what is in canon, but it is a darker/deeper exploration of moments from Save the Cat.

The world has always been very loud for Catra.

Her earliest memories hark back to when Force Captains would use their booming voices to yell at her to be quiet. To stop running. Stop laughing. Stop playing. Once she became old enough to start training as a cadet, that loudness took a new form, one of criticism and disparagement.

Even in the dead of night, the whole world still felt so… _loud_. There were times when she’d close her eyes and still see Shadow Weaver in a violent rage, declaring how worthless she was. Even in her fond memories of growing up in the Fright Zone, her and Adora were _loud_. Boisterous, giggling, high energy and high intensity always.

The noise became so much more intense—like someone had cranked the dial up to one hundred after she became Force Captain. She had to appease Hordak, had to turn the Horde into something powerful, had to show Adora all that she had carelessly left behind. She had to win, too. Had to beat Adora and her stupid new friends and prove that she was worth something.

Worth more than just some little _thing_ you can abandon in the middle of the night once a better opportunity presents itself.

And still, after Beast Island and joining the Rebellion life was louder than ever before. All of that _senseless_ noise. Accompanied by such immense heartache and fear—it was no wonder why she always suffered from such severe migraines.

Empty promises and false declarations of love, all of which pulled her further into an abyss of darkness. She had always felt such pain and hurt with no respite. _They_ were the ones who had given her such pain. She did not matter to them. Their caustic actions, continued dismissals—it all surmounted to a constant pounding in the crux of her soul.

A life spent suffering in the darkness cast by her own worthlessness. She would try to be loud, to imitate the world around her, to stand out and make something of herself but all of these attempts fell flat. She might’ve made marginal progress, but she would always default to the darkness. The senseless hurt. Her selfish ways and destructive retribution…it was all just _noise_.

But now her world is silent at last.

Prime has made her worthy of his favor. He has quieted all of that rageful noise within her, taken away all of her pointless anguish.

Now she found she could not put names to the ever-blurring faces of those who have hurt her, even if she tried. And she will not try. She does not want to remember. Has no interest in reliving all of her agony. Not when Prime has awarded her with such beautiful peace and soothing silence.

She cannot recall why she ever resisted him. In all of his glory, only Prime can bring light and peace to the entire universe. Serenity that shall continue without end.

And while she cannot recall the names or faces of those who have hurt her, she has decided to give them grace. Lord Prime has asked her to; has requested her forgiveness on the matter. He says it is the final step in letting go. Lord Prime’s wisdom is infinite and ever-flowing. If he says it, it must be true.

Generously, he has decided to give her an additional mission. To not only forgive these long-suffering tormentors but to bring them into his light as well. She is…unsure if they’ve earned a place within Lord Prime’s empire, but he assures her that is for him alone to worry about.

Her reservations melt away before they can surmise to any true discord anyway—as promised, Lord Prime continues to absolve her of any draining worry. There is no need for her to concern herself with such trivial matters. All she needs to do is simply execute his will.

Perhaps then she will earn more favor in Prime’s light and he will finally stop calling her that horrid name: _Catra._

* * *

A state of sorrow had fallen across the Rebellion’s hidden encampment; grief manifesting itself in very different ways.

For Micah, it was relentless planning and mobilization. It was constant movement, a compulsion to stay busy. Lest he slow down for one moment and find himself plagued by the burning image of green glowing eyes. He’s found that if he blinks for even a moment too long, his brain will betray him by replaying the harsh movement of Prime grabbing Catra and pulling her upwards. Positioning her like she’s some sort of rag doll.

He _has_ to keep himself occupied. Whether it's through strategizing how to fend off incoming clone troops or ensuring everyone in camp was taking care of themselves, Micah is active. 

For some reason, there seems to be a slowdown in the arrival of new clones. Micah fears the implications of this, but is thankful for the momentary respite. Instead he’s able to distract himself with fair games of ice ball. The only issue with constant activity is that sometimes he moves too quickly. He slips and calls Frosta _kid_ instead of _kiddo_ and the ever-bearing pain in his chest magnifies with such intensity that he has to grip the bark of a nearby tree to stabilize himself.

On his upper bicep there is a scar from where Catra used her magic to stop Shadow Weaver’s poison from spreading to his heart. He finds it is no coincidence that during such moments of despair the thin, veiny scars burn with an excruciating pull.

Conversely, Angella has found herself in quiet rage. Seething anger mixed with despondency. She prefers to spend the majority of her free time in their shared tent, excusing herself from any group activity by requesting a moment to herself. Such moments often bleed into hours, repeating throughout the day. 

When Micah does slow down for a moment to join her in the tent, she doesn’t speak much. She prefers to listen to him. To hear him discuss aspects of his day, despite how similar their days are, or indulge his speeches on optimism and faith. Regardless of whether or not she believes them, it helps to listen. It’s grounding. 

He holds her as he speaks, she closes her eyes and imagines a world where everything he says might be true. Where everyone returns from the ship unharmed, they defeat Prime together and return to normalcy. 

Angella is doubtful. Even allowing herself to imagine such an outcome bears a sharp pain in her heart. But hope seems to be the only thing keeping her husband going and she would never steal that from him. 

The arrival of an unexpected visitor to their camp does nothing to dampen the growing fury inside of Angella. If anything, it intensifies the slow-burning flame.

“I merely seek refuge,” Shadow Weaver says, holding her hands up in a gesture meant to signify peace. 

“Absolutely not,” Angella refuses. Micah straightens at her side, a nonverbal confirmation of his agreeance on the stance.

“As you two may be aware, all of Etheria is currently under siege,” Shadow Weaver drones, “And…technically, I was your prisoner. You just let me escape.”

“We assumed you had been taken with Hordak,” Micah corrects.

“And then immediately disposed of once Prime realized he has no use for dried up _hacks_.” Angella grits the words out. She doesn’t even want to _look_ at this pathetic excuse of a sorceress. Shadow Weaver caused so much pain and suffering to Catra to the point where Angella can hardly form a relationship with her and just look at where Catra is _now_ —

 _Catra._ Just thinking of her name sends Angella’s brain spinning with remorse. Helplessness. The image of her—hair slicked back and eyes forced to display a bright, unnatural glow. 

It haunts Angella. It’s like the picture has been embedded into her eyelids. Every time she blinks or tries to sleep, it’s all she can see.

There is _no_ way they’re allowing Shadow Weaver to stay here.

“My, what bold words coming from someone whose daughter has willingly subjugated herself to the will of the very emperor who seeks to destroy us all.”

“The emperor _you_ tried to bring here!” Angella snaps, all of her anger comes pounding to the surface. She steps forward, pointing a finger in Shadow Weaver’s face, “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you! And do not _dare_ imply that Catra is doing any of this voluntarily!”

Micah touches her arm, gently. Not to control or to stop her from letting her anger get the best of the situation but to comfort. She is well aware that her husband must be teeming with anger as well—especially since Shadow Weaver nearly had him killed. More than once.

“Ah, yes, I forget. You two were so quick to take her in that you fail to realize how well _I_ know her,” Shadow Weaver crones. “This is not so out of character for her-”

“You want protection?” Micah asks, stepping forward with fists at his side, “You’re not making a great case for yourself here. “

“But what if I can offer some insight? No one knows Hordak as well as I. If you are so…worried for your children, perhaps you would like to find out the best way to gather some additional information on their whereabouts, would you not?” Shadow Weaver proposes.

“Casta!” Angella calls out, unblinking. She does not take a minute to think Shadow Weavers proposal over. Fueled by both anger and adrenaline, she knows that trusting even a word that this woman has to say is risky. But she is tired of playing it safe. Where has it ever gotten her? Casta quickly makes her way over to them, “Prepare an entrapment rune. The strongest you can conjure.”

“Ang—” Micah interrupts, concern evident in his voice.

“Let me make this _abundantly_ clear: pending the validity of the information you provide, we will allow you to seek refuge in our camp. But you are on very thin ice. If you so much as _blink_ inappropriately I will throw you out of here myself. If there is even a _whisper_ of malintent from you, there is nothing in all of Greater Etheria that will protect you from me. _When_ I get my daughters back, if Catra is even the slightest bit perturbed by your presence, you will be gone. Immediately. Understood?” Angella’s voice is so calm that it is absolutely threatening. Every word she emphasizes brings about a chilling air—so stone cold that Shadow Weaver blanches under her mask. “Now. _What_ do you know?”

Micah looks to his wife with unbidden alarm. He can’t quite recall ever seeing her like this before.

Shadow Weaver explains Prime’s hive mind—the scraps of which had been disclosed to her by Hordak. She informs them both that, since Catra is now connected to the hive mind, any clone could potentially have information on both Catra and Glimmer.

It doesn’t take them long to locate a clone, not when Angella hastens out of the camp as if it’s on fire. Micah strives to keep pace with his wife, and Netossa is quick to help them tie up a straggling patrol clone. 

“Cat-tra?” The clone repeats, like the name is foreign before laughing ostentatiously, “Those who seek glory in Lord Prime’s light do not distinguish themselves with _names_. We are all joyously connected to the righteous light of Lord Prime. He will bring the entire universe to salvation—"

“ _Catra!_ Her name is Catra! That is her given name! I don’t know who gave it to her, but that's her name!” Scorpia pushes in front of Angella and Micah, placing her pinchers on the clones shoulders and shaking him fiercely, “Come on, you have to know Catra! She’s kind of tiny—but never say that to her face! Two different colored eyes! Very fiery, a little rough around the edges, loves her boundaries and _will_ threaten to claw you if you cross them but _oh_ she is such a softie when you get to know her—”

If there were a ranking for how hard the...recent Catra developments have impacted the Rebellion, Micah and Angella would tie for first. But Scorpia was a blazing second, so utterly consumed with self-blame and panic over her failings as Catra’s best friend. Even Perfuma has had a difficult time talking sense into her.

“Horde Prime took Glimmer too,” Micah says, eyes stern. “What is he planning to do with them?”

“My, in all of his infinite generosity, Lord Prime has graciously extended an invitation to both royal Highnesses. They were rewarded with the best of Lord Prime’s care and treated with his highest regard-”

Angella has no patience for this. She’s sick of these tireless games, unwarranted rants of misplaced glory. She lunges forward, grabbing the clone by the collar, “What. Did. He. Do. To. Them?”

The clone is unphased, but at least responds to her question. “They were _confused_. They tried to reject his light. One had been so corrupt and misled that she fled far from Lord Prime’s light. The other, however, has come to her senses at last. She has repented for her sins as well as the sins of the one she calls ‘sister’.”

Exhaling with shaky breath, Angella turns to Micah. This confirms her husband's suspicions. Glimmer has escaped. It doesn’t mean she is _safe_ but at least she isn’t with Prime. But, as feared, Catra is paying the price.

“Yes, indeed, Lord Prime has brought her into his light. She has finally seen the error of her ways,” The clone grins in a way that could only be described as wicked. “Though, that does not mean it was easy for her…”

“What are you talking about? What does that mean?” Angella tightens her grip, eyes narrowing in anger.

“Angie-” Micah steps forward, sensing this is a taunt—a bait of some sort.

But the clone continues talking, “Oh yes. She tried to resist. But her efforts were futile. There is no darkness that Lord Prime’s magnificent light cannot penetrate.”

“What did he do to her?” Angella demands again, gritting the words out.

“He cleansed her soul. Washed all of the darkness away. He purified her,” The clones eyes widen manically. Angella feels sick—almost as sick as she did when Prime paraded Catra around, like a trophy he had won. “You seem dismayed. Why do you hesitate to step into the light of Horde Prime? She is very much happier now.”

Incensed, Angella breathes deeply. Her vision feels blurry, breaths ragged. All she can see is her own _rage_. Micah grounds her with his warm hand on her shoulder. He hasn’t said a word, but Angella knows he is right—she cannot let this mindless clone get the best of her. Inhaling deeply, she steadies herself and releases him from her grasp. It seems like everyone relaxes as she does.

“Being brought into his light is an act of true salvation. It is all anyone could ever hope for.” He carries on. Angella and Micah glare at him, ready to bring this mission to an end. “Our dear little sister even ceased screaming by her third conditioning ceremony.”

Angella blinks slowly. Once. Twice. The implications of his words sink in. Her fears of Catra’s agony are cemented—far worse, _three times_ worse than she had worried. Her vision is overtaken by white hot anger, hand raising behind her to conjure enough light magic to do this bastard in and give him even a fraction of the suffering he has given her daughter-

A hand, firm but gentle grabs her wrist. Surprise alight in her eyes, she looks to Micah.

“Angie. Come on. This isn’t you,” He pleads. She knows she could push him away with ease but…

There is something profoundly sad and heartbreaking in his stare. It’s jarring enough to put the pulsing anger and the need to release it on pause.

“He _hurt_ her,” Angella argues. It is feeble, but it’s all she has.

“We won’t get her back this way,” Micah points out. “Hate has never brought her back to us.”

“We have never lost her like this,” Angella manages to say, voice choked with emotion. The admission breaks her heart all over again—just when she was certain it couldn’t be _more_ broken. It’s a matter of seconds before the magic drains from her, arms falling listlessly to her sides as Micah pulls her close to him.

His grip is tight around her. She can feel his hurt, his anger, his grief. It’s all there. He is more discreet about it than she is. She wonders if it comes from years of isolation on Beast Island. He held out hope for nearly two decades. And his hope was ultimately rewarded. Perhaps that is why he is holding himself together a bit better now.

All of her anger has to be released somehow. She finds herself crying, once more, on his shoulder. Micah holds her even tighter, motioning for Netossa and Scorpia to take the clone away—uncertain if he’ll be able to restrain himself if he has to withstand another tirade praising the ‘glory of Horde Prime’.

“She’s strong,” He whispers into Angella’s hair. It isn’t much by the way of comfort, it doesn’t make the horrid nature of the circumstance any less real, but it’s true. It’s all he can remind himself of now. She was strong enough to survive everything on Beast Island, to make it out of the signal not once but _twice_. Strong enough to swallow her pride and come with him to Bright Moon and build a new life here. “Stronger than him.”

It’s hard to watch. No one in the Alliance has ever seen either monarchs so thoroughly distraught before. Mermista had heard…whisperings of the Queen’s grief after she lost micah from her own father. But that was a far cry from the fractured scene playing out a few feet in front of her.

“Alright,” She sighs, eyeing the queen warily, “We need to do something. We have never seen them like this... like…ever.”

“But what can we do?” Perfuma sighs, “Swift Wind can’t connect to She-Ra to send her a message and Darla is too far away for us to reach.”

“Hmmm…” Seahawk leans in dramatically close, “I just may have an idea. Are any of you familiar with oh-so mysterious Prince Peekablue?”

“Oh, here we go,” Mermista sighs, crossing her arms.

* * *

It will be an in-and-out mission, Adora tells herself as the clones grab her roughly and direct her to Prime’s throne room. Even as she’s ushered inside and she sees a narrow bridge of silver encased by what seems like infinite darkness—it’ll be _in-and-out_.

Bow and Entrapta are headed to the server room to gain any intel on Prime’s weaknesses. Adora will keep Prime busy. Most importantly, Glimmer is going to get Catra. Then everyone will confirm via earpiece that they’ve executed their part of the mission and all Adora will have to do is make a quick escape.

Then she’ll be with Catra again. And everything will be okay. They can head back to Etheria and work through this nightmare together. As it should be.

This hope gives her enough confidence to make her way through a blistering conversation with Horde Prime. Something about him is so incredibly unnerving. He’s unlike anything she’s ever had to face before.

Before, Adora would consider Catra to be her greatest enemy. She is calculated yet quick—both in word and action. But Prime is slow and deliberate in his dealings. Where Catra is fiery emotion, he is carefully concealed and stoic. Prime is so chilled, so reserved in all that he says—even his snarl as he calls Adora a First One is so tame compared to how she’s faced off against Catra before.

Adora doesn’t know how to fight an enemy like this. It feels like he is lauding something over her—or some _one,_ rather. He’s already called her bluff. She can’t use the Heart as a weapon, can’t risk hurting Catra.

But it doesn’t matter. She can keep him talking. Clearly he’s got a lot to say and she’s ready to exploit as much. Especially if it gives her an opportunity to stick up for herself, for her friends, for Etheria.

_For Catra._

Then Adora hears Glimmers voice in her ear, _“Guys. I’m in Catra’s room but she’s not here. What do we do?”_

Shit. Glimmer is supposed to be the one to get her. Glimmer is her sister. Micah and Angella aren’t here, but Glimmer’s their best bet. Adora is less hopeful that, should Catra actually need any sort of coaxing like on Beast Island, Bow or Entrapta will be able to break through to her. Maybe Entrapta but…

Ugh. It has to be Glimmer.

The last of Adora’s confidence wavers when she hears her—the voice she’s been aching to hear ever since the gut-wrenching, “ _No matter who you are or what you do, I love you. Always.”_

“Adora?” Her heart stutters—it’s Catra. Catra is _here._ Somehow. Pulse quickening, Adora turns frantically around, trying to get a visual on her…

“Come here, child,” Prime beckons.

 _Child_? Adora wrinkles her nose at that. Catra is far from a child. Even further from being _his_ child.

Clones march in unison as they present someone to Prime. Head bowed, hood covering their face. Adora doesn’t need to see any more of them to know who it is. It’s Catra. And...Adora has never seen her wear so much _white_. Glimmer wasn’t wearing that when they rescued her. Why is Catra—

“Hello, Adora.” She raises her head, removing her hood in a fluid movement. It’s a far cry from Catra’s usual greeting for her. Adora doesn’t even have a moment to process the strangeness of her words before…

Green eyes. _Bright, glowing_ green eyes stop Adora’s train of thought. Derail it completely. Her hair is cut so _short_ it steals the air from Adora’s lungs. Catra would’ve never wanted that—

“What did you do to her?” Adora demands, lunging forward and reaching for Catra. She is held firmly in place by clones, but she continues to struggle desperately against their hold.

Adora is there. Adora is _right_ there. Yet Catra walks past her—like the only thing that matters to her is Prime. Ordinarily, Adora may assume she’s being given the cold shoulder. Fair, maybe, given everything that’s happened between them. But these are no ordinary circumstances.

Catra uses her whole body to fold over at Primes feet, an action so unwholly like her that Adora feels her stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What did _I_ do to her? Oh, my dear sweet child. It is not what I have done to her—it is what _you_ have done. All you have done is cause great pain and misery. You have failed to see her worth, time and time again.” Prime explains. Catra rises, not even once looking back to Adora as she stands next to Prime, eagerly awaiting his touch as he cradles the back of her head. “ _You_ cast her aside. _You_ left her behind. But I…” he grins wickedly, taking in the mindless bliss on Catra’s face, “I celebrate her value. I have recreated her in my image. I have wiped her soul clean of the scars and impurities you have casted upon it.”

 _Wiped her soul clean?_ Adora furrows her brows, trying to decipher the meaning behind it all. Recalling her words from when Catra was trapped within the swarming heart of the signal, Adora calls out, “Catra! You have to fight it!”

Catra turns her head to Adora, cocking slightly to the side as if she’s confused. “Fight it? Why would I fight it? My place is here, with Lord Prime.”

Her voice is so…off. So wrong. No worse are the words she’s saying. Swallowing thickly, Adora tries another approach, “You don’t mean that. I’m here to take you home, Micah and Angella have been worried sick about you!”

If the mention of Micah and Angella provide any clarity, it does not register on her face. Instead, she repeats, “My place is with Horde Prime. I do not want to leave.”

That’s not true. There’s no _way_ that’s true-

“Tell her what I’ve done for you.”

Catra turns to her then, moving slowly with determined purpose. “Lord Prime has given me peace. Something you could never do. You broke my heart, but he has made it whole again.” The hand that caresses Adora’s face is so cold that it shocks her, makes her want to recoil but she is held firmly in place.

“Don’t you see, Adora?” Catra asks, green eyes boring into hers, “I’m happy here. He has healed me. He has taken away all of those ugly feelings of anger and hate. Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to let go of the darkness?”

Adora’s breath hitches in her chest. There was a time, yes, when Adora wanted that. Wanted Catra to break away from the evil of the Horde, to join the Rebellion with her and see everything the world could be. She was so afraid she had lost Catra entirely to the darkness, so of course that's what she wanted but that was in the _past_...

A single tear rolls down her cheek. Catra leans in and whispers, hand ghosting Adora’s neck. “You can let go, too.”

“Whatever you did to her, undo it!” Adora demands to Prime instead, looking over Catra’s shoulder to fix him with her most menacing stare. “You wanted me here, and I’m here now so let her go!”

He steps closer, hand resting possessively on the back of Catra’s neck. “Do you still want her, Adora?” The question makes her blood boil with anger—what kind of question is that? “Do you sincerely wish to take her away from the place she is happiest? From the only one who has ever truly seen her, for all that she is and still _wants_ her?”

The answer is so obvious, he’s only asking her the question to piss her off. It’s working.

“You’ve fought this battle before, have you not? And you worked so hard, didn’t you Adora? To finally get your Catra back. You thought the allure of something as pitiful as love could save her, didn’t you?”

The signal. He’s talking about the signal. But how does he know about _that_? Adora looks to Catra imploringly, but it is of no use. Catra has no emotion on her face whatsoever.

“Oh she did not tell me this. Not willingly.” Prime casts her a cold, wicked grin before sighing dramatically. “You have quite the habit of _losing_ her. Why would I entrust her to your care again, given such an appalling track record?” He shakes his head in disappointment, “No…I’ll give her to you. But first I must make sure I receive something equal in return to guarantee your maturity on the matter.”

The mention of her failures are salt on an open wound, twisting and burning her skin uncomfortably. She looks up at him with a sharp glare. 

“First, you must give me She-Ra.”

“Never.” Adora’s refusal is staunch and unwavering. Partially because there is no She-Ra to give. But also because she is in no mood to negotiate with him. He’s wrong. Catra is not some _thing_ , not some bargaining chip or some ploy—it enrages Adora. This feels all too reminiscent of Shadow Weaver and Adora won’t allow it to continue. She doesn’t need Prime to hand Catra over, she’ll get Catra herself—

“Very well.” Prime snaps his fingers, a loud static ringing in her ears. She groans in pain as the ear piece falls out and he crushes it beneath his boot. “You miscalculated. Time and time again, Adora. I see all. I _know_ all. First you’ve made the very grave mistake of letting one with such _power_ slip out of your fingers. And now you thought yourself worthy to challenge me, but you are nothing but a false hero. You have led your friends to destruction.”

The pain of white noise is nothing to Adora—not when she looks up to see Prime digging his fingers into Catra’s neck and for the briefest of seconds she sees a flash of blue and yellow. Not the soulless green eyes of a foreign entity, but she sees _Catra_. Wide-eyed and afraid, but she’s there _._ The air feels like it has been sucked out of Adora’s body.

“Go on. Bring out She-Ra and strike me down,” Prime challenges. It was no coincidence, Adora realizes. He gave her a flash of Catra, just to proposition her like this—to taunt her. Tears well in her eyes, “Ah, but you two must have a lot of catching up to do.” He pets Catra’s head. It’s wrong—he shouldn’t-he has no _right_ to touch her like that. “Let me know when you change your mind, Adora. But just know…you will not be able to change hers.”

Prime walks away, clones flanking at his side as he departs. Adora turns her attention over to Catra. She isn’t entirely sure what’s going on…or if she can get through to her…but she has to try.

Adora blinks, noticing the smirk on Catra’s face and the flame above her hand—ready to strike. Catra twitches her eyebrow, ever so slightly, and it’s all the indication Adora gets before she has to jump backward, falling on the ground to avoid the flame.

“Catra! Listen to me, you need to snap out of this,” Adora pleads, scrambling to her feet. There’s too much distance between the two of them. She feels like she has to shout in this endless room, she needs to get closer to Catra but—

 _Shit_. Outside of war time, it’s almost easy to forget how powerful Catra is. The fire may have missed its intended target, but it has grown tenfold from its place on the ground. Spreading ruthlessly until it forms a divide between them. Adora steps forward and the heat is intense, her eyes scanning the flames and looking for the figure of Catra when…

Catra lunges forward, lurching through the flames and catching Adora so off guard she nearly lands a punch on her face. It’s her mistake in the end though, because now she’s close enough Adora grabs her closed fist and uses her other arm to push Catra’s forward into a neutral position, away from the fire.

Adora’s grip is stronger than iron. She isn’t letting go of Catra now, no matter what.

“I know you’re mad at me and I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” Adora offers, figuring she may as well lean into it, “That’s fine. Don’t fight it for me. Do it for them. Do it for Micah and Angella. They need you to snap out of it— _ah!”_

In her hold, Catra’s arm twists in a way that is far from normal. Or medically feasible. A sickening series of snaps fill her ears. It _has_ to hurt. In her surprise, Adora drops her hold and Catra sends her a malicious grin. She seizes the opportunity to break out of Adora’s grasp entirely, swiping down across her chest, sting of her claws followed by the burn of embers that trail behind them.

It leaves Adora gasping out in pain—unsure of what is worse, the sting or the burn right above her heart. 

“I am not upset with you, Adora,” Catra refutes—her voice incredibly smooth and even on every word she speaks. Despite her hollow words, she aims another ball of fire towards Adora—with just enough time for Adora to hurl her body out of the way, rolling onto the metal floor. “I do not want to fight you. It is not Lord Prime’s desire to cause harm.”

Adora stands again, evaluating Catra carefully. Her breath is heavy, growing in intensity as Catra walks, slowly and purposely towards her. “Lord Prime seeks to heal. There is no need for you to suffer. Let go of the darkness, Adora. Step into the light with me.”

Lunging forward this time, before Catra has the opportunity to strike or do _anything_ else, Adora grabs a hold of her, pinning her arms and her wrists together as she looks—eyes blazing, into Catra’s eyes.

“Snap out of it, Catra!” Adora demands. Her chest pulses with the pain from the open wounds. Catra’s features flicker in distaste at the use of her name. “Micah, Angella, Glimmer—they _need_ you to snap out of this. I promised Micah I’d bring you home!”

“I do not know these people,” Catra relays, calmly. Adora’s breath catches in her throat—it isn’t a lie. The blank stare. The lack of emotion in her tone. The way Catra hasn’t reacted at all to Adora mentioning them _._ The names are meaningless to her, the value behind them even more estranged. What the hell did Prime do?

“They’re your _family_ Catra,” Adora explains, grip so tight it shakes Catra just a bit. “Prime tried to take them away from you so he could control you. But they love you and you love them.”

Love worked before, didn’t it? With the signal-

“ _They_ hurt me. _You_ hurt me,” Catra corrects, swinging her leg forward and kicking Adora in the face. It’s awkward and there’s a limited range of movement, but it’s distracting enough that Catra frees one of her hands and grabs the front of Adora’s head, claws digging into the top of her scalp. “Prime has set me free of that pain. If they love me as you claim, they will follow me into Prime’s light. Then he can bring about a world of peace through his eternal reign.”

With her other hand, she brings her claws down, ready to scratch but Adora shoves her backwards. _Too_ far backwards, though, because she stumbles backwards to the edge of the platform, teetering right off of it. All it would take is the slightest wind to send her tumbling down into the black abyss.

 _No, no, no_ —Adora reaches forward, grabbing Catra by her shoulders as she _laughs_ -laughs! at her predicament. Unnerved by the exchange, Adora is alarmed when Catra finds her footing, pushes toward Adora and grips the front of her shirt. 

“Catra, it’s going to be okay-”

The move isn’t aggressive, isn’t set to cause injury, and Adora almost wonders if she’s broken through to her when—

_Oh._

Catra leverages her momentum to switch their positions entirely. Now it’s Adora who hangs off the edge of the platform, dangling by Catra’s harsh grip. The other hand that isn’t holding onto her collar like a vice has conjured another flame, ready to strike.

But Catra’s eyes are different now. They contain white, ghostly pupils and when she speaks, it carries the heavy undertones of Prime’s voice as well.

“How long will you delay the inevitable, Adora?” In terms of fear, the steep drop below Adora is nothing compared to the wild terror she feels looking at Catra—or rather, what Prime has made of her. Catra…Prime—no, this is Prime, for sure, looks between blazing ember raised at eye-level and back to Adora. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Such power. It would’ve certainly expedited some of my more…intricate conquests. Truly a shame that you have wasted it so terribly.”

She swallows thickly, scrambling to get the slightest bit of purchase on the platform. Catra is not a weapon. Not some tool at Prime’s disposal. And if he thinks he can use her to goad Adora into bringing out She-Ra and _hurting_ her, he’s dead wrong.

“She tried so very hard to resist me. So stuck on her pain, I had to purge it from her thrice over,” The smile Adora receives is one she is certain will haunt her for the rest of her life. _Purge._ Three times. Adora doesn’t even know what that means, but it might explain why Catra is so hard to reach right now. “It is not an easy process to endure. It was far less enjoyable for me after she stopped being so afraid. When she gave up on _screaming_.”

Adora strains in the hold, raw, desperate anger coursing through her but helpless to do anything about it.

“Ah…” His voice is contemplative, as though he has just arrived at some grand conclusion, “Perhaps I will make her my new vessel. She would not last me long, but it would be so entertaining to watch her destroy the very people she tried so desperately to cling to. The very agents that led to her destruction. What do you think, Adora?”

 _That’s it_. The last word-her name is Catra’s voice again. Somehow not hearing Prime’s undertone angers Adora even more. With all of the force she can muster, she propels herself forward, hands tight on Catra’s shoulders and _pushes_. They’re both sent reeling backwards, not stopping until they hit the transparent monitors in the center of the platform.

Fearfully, Adora pulls back the slightest bit. She hears the sound of a zapping, electrical noise behind Catra. She didn’t mean to _hurt_ her—

But Catra is laughing. Again. Slowly, through the pain. Like the only thing that’s funny is the pain itself. Her head is drooped forward, only angling upwards when Adora tightens her grip on her shoulders again.

And there—there she is again. _Catra_. Her eyes, blue and yellow reappear for the briefest of seconds. And it doesn’t matter what Prime says or does. Catra is still in there. Adora knows it, just knows that somewhere, Catra is trying to claw her way out. Back to her.

Time is of the essence. Adora may not have She-Ra’s enhanced abilities, but she can still discern faint crackling noises through the spire. There is something shifting, changing in the air. She realizes it must be connected with the electricity sparking on the back of Catra’s neck and behind her on the monitor. 

It feels like there is an explosion looming ahead.

Desperately, Adora tries to think of something to say. Prime has taken so much from Catra. Her hair. Her body. Her autonomy. Her family. A bit hysterically, Adora wonders what is left.

Micah and Angella are wiped clean, she’s pretty sure. And she can’t waste time testing that theory again.

“I am _not_ giving up on you, Catra!” Adora yells, despite their close proximity. Yelling is what got through to her at the signal—could it work now, too?

“There is nothing left for you to give up on,” Is the hollow reply. But it’s not as smooth and robotic as before. It’s pitched lower, sadder, somehow. “You cannot stop Horde Prime. He will reign triumphant over all the universe. It is destiny.”

Suddenly Catra is shocked again, crying out in pain—green sparks flying behind her as the screens malfunction and glitch varying green hues. Adora pulls her close, tucking her head in close to her body before diving to the floor—mere seconds before the monitors explode behind them.

* * *

“I am _not_ giving up on you, Catra!”

 _Catra_. That is wrong. She is not meant to have a name. It feels wrong every time this woman—Adora, says it to her. A name makes her different. Too different from Lord Prime. And that is bad. She doesn’t want to be different—there are consequences to that. Very painful consequences.

If she is different, she is in pain. If she is different Lord Prime cannot absolve her of that pain. He cannot reach her, cannot see inside of her mind and relieve her of her burdens. He will have to recondition her again. He says he is not sure if her body could withstand the toll a fourth time around.

 _No._ She cannot go through that again. She cannot have this name, this—

 _“Catra!”_ A memory resurfaces. Like it is extracted from her by some unknown force. It is not Prime, though. This feels different from how he sifts through the mundane musings of her consciousness. But how else could this scene replay? Surely, she could not have acted against the will of Prime and conjured it herself.

_“Catra! Can you slow down?” A voice, clearly winded, requests. They are on some spiral staircase she cannot quite place._

_“Come on, we’re almost there!”_

_“Oh man. Just go on without me. I’m not gonna to make it,” The voice is Adora. Huffing and leaning into the set of stairs in front of her._

_“What’s the matter?” Her own voice is cocky, teasing—unfamiliar now, “The Princess of Power can’t handle a little bit of cardio?”_

_She looks down to Adora, a warm fondness spreading across her chest at the sight of said princess nearly collapsed on the blue wooden staircase._

_“You know, you’re supposed to be on bed rest. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Adora complains._

_“Bedrest is for losers,” Catra leans down and grabs Adora’s hand, tugging her upright as the taller woman groans in disapproval._

_“Funny, you didn’t think that when the healers said_ I _had to be on bed rest.”_

 _“Well, if the shoe fits…” Catra teases. Adora snaps her head up at that, grumbling as she gets another wind of energy and moves forward to grab at Catra._

_Catra is far quicker, hopping a few steps ahead to evade her grasp. She lands gracefully on the landing, giggling with mirth at Adora as she trudges up the final steps._

_“Okay, how did you even find this place?” Adora asks her, looking around the pink walls that surround them—as if they will contain the answer. “I’m pretty sure Glimmer has never even been here.”_

_She rolls her eyes in response. She is far from being in the mood to talk about_ Glimmer _right now._

Glimmer…Glimmer—the name burns. It’s another name that she should not think of. It has been taken from her. Only because it hurt her. She cannot think of it and risk inviting such pain and differentiation back into her mind.

_Catra pushes the wooden door open. Tugging on Adora’s hand and guiding her outside. They’re at the tallest point of the castle…_

Castle. Bright Moon Castle…someone had showed this place to her. Long ago. When she _was_ Catra. She cannot think of their name...

_“Woah!” Adora gasps in awe. Her blue eyes widen in delight as she takes in the scenery, the expansive view of Etheria, clouds and forest aplenty._

_"_ _Isn’t it something?” Catra asks, pride in her voice. Proud that she was the one to show Adora this place. To make her happy. It always feels like it’s the other way around…_

_“It’s beautiful,” Adora is still breathless as she speaks, eyes crinkling in the daylight as she surveys the view. “Okay. Glimmer has definitely never taken me here before. Wanna know how I know that?”_

_Catra rolls her eyes but nods._

_“Cause she totally would’ve teleported us up here instead of making me take the stairs.”_

_"_ _Ugh,” Catra pushes Adora away. Genuine irritation over this…Glimmer being brought up. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go. Maybe Sparkles can take you here later-“_

 _“Woaaaah,” Adora backpedals quickly, grabbing Catra’s hand—her palm is sweaty. “We_ just _got here. Besides, you don’t seriously think I’d rather be up here with her, do you?”_

_Jealousy. A familiar emotion. She couldn’t tamp it down, no matter how hard she tried. Some days were better than others but-_

Lord Prime healed her of all thoughts of envy…

_“I mean sure, I love Glimmer,” Adora admits, casually, grabbing Catra’s other hand and squeezing playfully. “But not like I looooooove you.”_

_Adora pulls Catra in, goofy smile on her face as she wraps herself around Catra._

_“Ew! Get off of me, you’re all sweaty!” Catra protests, wrinkling her nose. But the wind blows against them. And it’s not the worst thing in the world to have Adora shielding her from it._

_Especially when Adora only holds her tighter, tucking her head on Catra’s shoulder and swaying them both side-to-side. “Can’t. Sorry.”_

_“Oh you can’t?” Catra questions, voice pitched higher and face flushing red. Thank god no one can see them all the way up here…_

No. No, these memories are wrong. She has to fight them. Push them down. Adora only ever hurt her. She isn’t supposed to know Adora. Lord Prime is only letting her remember Adora because…because she needs to right now. To carry out his will. For now. And then he will take all of Adora from her, too. Then she will be pure.

_“Nope,” Adora confirms, “Never gonna let you go. Wanna know why?”_

_Catra snorts—even if she secretly loves it when Adora gets so mushy. She’s only like that with her, after all. “Why?”_

_Adora’s voice is right by her ear as she repeats herself, “Because I love you.”_

 _I love you_. Adora loves her—Adora…no. Adora hurt her. Adora left her. Adora said she loved her but then _left_. It was all talk—

It _hurts._ It hurts like having a name hurts. Adora can’t love her. It’s a lie, it has to be. That’s why it hurts.

But…even if it is just a ruse, a plot devised to hurt her, to lure her back into wanting a name and out of Prime’s reach…she wants it.

She wants her name. She wants Adora.

Catra wants Adora to love her. Even if the love is just a lie, she wants to make that hoax her home.

* * *

Adora pants from exhaustion, slowly lowering Catra from where she had been cradled against her neck. She grits her teeth as she sees more green sparks emanate from that damned chip. 

Slowly, Catra rolls over and blinks—but her eyes are not green anymore. Exhaling with relief, Adora gingerly cups her face, unable to keep the tears from falling, “Catra?”

Her hopes are sky-high. Managing expectations and all that other bullshit be damned.

“Adora…” Catra groans, blinking again. Adora fears each time she opens her eyes that they’ll go back to that cursed green—but they don’t. _Thank god_ , they don’t.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Adora comforts, tightening her grip so, so slightly on Catra’s face. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, that’s the _problem_ ,” Her words would have much more fire behind them if she weren’t so drained, so tired, so barely in control as it is. “What are you doing here? I told you...You can’t…Prime—you can’t save the universe from here.”

_“Besides, isn’t saving the universe what matters most to you?”_

Catra’s earlier words come back. Adora could almost laugh at them now, they’re so ridiculous. How does Catra still not get it?

“Saving the universe doesn’t matter to me,” Adora’s voice is grave. She needs Catra to understand this next part, “Not if you aren’t in it.”

Adora steels herself, fearful of what is sure to come next. Catra denying her, telling her she’s wrong or doesn’t mean it. Catra disbelieving the most _dire_ truth.

But the moment doesn’t come. Instead, Adora watches as Catra takes a sharp inhale of breath, tears pooling at her eyes, hand covering where Adora cups her face. Catra believes her. Hope blooms in her chest. They can do this—

An external force slams Catra’s head backwards, onto the ground. The green hue rolls over her eyes and Catra goes stiff, hands flexing away from Adora like she’s trying to fight it—trying to protect her, even.

 _Slap._ Catra’s open palm meets Adora’s cheek. She recoils and flinches, but it is the least damaging move Catra has made against her all day. Still, Catra tries to move away on shaky legs, putting distance between the two of them as she scrambles for control. She’s headed right for the edge of that platform and- _no._ Adora knows Catra too well, knows what her intention might be there.

Her heart leaps in her chest as she bounds to her feet, desperate to reach Catra. Prime must be telling her to turn around and fight and she must be resisting him like _hell_ because Adora has never seen her legs wobble like that.

“Catra—”

“Stay back!” Catra cries, arm swiping downward—and with it, a trail of embers appear. It’s only seconds before they go from nonthreatening to large, cackling flames. But they don’t move, they don’t spread. They’re forming a wall. To prevent Adora from getting closer so that Catra can’t hurt her.

She stumbles, tired. Adora can’t imagine what toll using her magic must be having now—especially since it’s not in the way Prime clearly wants. She’s too close to the edge, and the heat is intense. It’s too hot for Adora to cross and _fuck_ this feels way too close to her dream.

“Come on, Catra!” Adora shouts, “Prime is wrong! There is nothing about you that needs to be fixed. He’s just saying that to control you-you have to push him out. I know you can!”

Catra shakes her head, back facing Adora as she curls in on herself, body shaking with the effort to stand.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives! Are you really going to take Prime’s word over mine?” Adora scoffs.

Catra looks up to her at that—eyes alight with surprise. Adora knows how that must sound—she is clearly no figure of all-knowing wisdom. And Catra never stops bringing up that stupid glue story. But, for what Adora lacks in common knowledge, she makes up for in her extensive Catra-expertise.

And she laughs. Genuinely, this time. “You’re such an idiot.”

Adora shakes her head in confirmation, teary-eyed, “Yeah, I know. But I _know_ you. And I love you.” Catra turns around, fully—eyes in disbelief. The flames roar between them. “I loved you when we were kids and got yelled at for laughing too loud. I loved you when we were cadets and we used to always hide just _one_ of Kyle’s shoes.”

Sweat beads across Catra’s forehead. Adora isn’t sure if it's from the heat or the restraint to hold herself back from harming either one of them. But she continues.

“I loved you even when we were on opposites of a _war_. I loved you when we found you on Beast Island. Even when you came back to Bright Moon and we didn’t talk for _weeks_. I loved you when we were stuck in that stupid hole together—and I loved you even when you left. Even when _I_ left. I’ve always loved you. And I love you _especially_ now.”

It’s the only truth Adora has always known. She just hopes it’s enough.

“Adora…” Catra looks up at her—eyes burning through the flames. She takes a step towards her, and they decrease in severity just slightly.

Adora takes a mirroring step closer, they’re barely an arm’s length away from each other. “I’m going to take you home.”

“It’s not my home anymore,” The heartbreak in her voice is tangible, “Is it?”

“Of course it is!” Adora assures her. “Even if it isn’t…we’ll make it home again. Together.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Encouraged, Adora steps even closer, ignoring the flames as they lick up her skin and burn. She reaches her hand through the flame, ready to grab Catra’s hand and pull when—

_No._

Just out of reach, her hand makes that same, sickening crack that her arm did earlier. Pulling backwards at an impossible angle. Horrified, Adora looks up at Catra’s face and sees that Prime has taken control—fully. Again.

“Disappointing. Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

Blinding green electricity crackles at the back of Catra’s neck for several moments too long. Her eyes return back to their normal color, only for her body to sag lifelessly as Prime drains himself from her. And then she’s falling—falling backwards, off the platform.

“No!” Adora cries, voice fierce. She does not hesitate for even a moment before she is running through the flames—sparks dying out behind her, throwing herself off of the platform and into the depths of unknown darkness below.

* * *

Adora rouses, head aching from the ferocity of the fall. All of the pain her body feels right now must be minor, a small drop in the ocean compared to what Catra is feeling.

_Catra._

Something in Adora’s body feels like a live wire. Burning with an intensity that threatens to bubble over the surface. She hasn’t felt like this…since…

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing other than Adora making her way over to Catra. She tries to stand but her knees give out instantly—a consequence she may have anticipated had she taken the time to think through the jump. The setback is minor, it only makes her more determined as she crawls on her elbows over to Catra’s motionless body.

“Catra?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she takes Catra into her arms. Her body is _limp_ in her grasp. _Dead weight_ , Adora’s brain supplies uselessly. But no-no it can’t be. Not her. Not Catra. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

But she can’t get the words out without trembling. She can barely make it to the end the sentence before she buries her head against Catra’s chest, tucking Catra towards her neck. Seeking a heartbeat. Comfort. Anything.

She hears heavy footsteps but doesn’t look up. She knows who they belong to. Knows their purpose.

They don’t matter. Nothing in the world matters except for Catra and her labored breaths and weakening heartbeat. Absently, Adora pulls her even closer still, cradling the back of her head.

This is the closest she has been to Catra in far too long. Her body has been aching to hold Catra again, to keep her close and never let go.

But not like this.

Her grip tightens when the footsteps stop a few feet ahead of them. Like it will stop them from taking Catra away from her.

She can’t lose Catra. _No one_ is taking Catra from her—that thought fuels the blazing force that grows under her skin. Adora feels…so much right now. All of it potent, all of it manifesting into some power she can’t quite place.

“I am sorry for the needless waste, Adora. It did not have to be like this.” Prime utters in mock sympathy.

Blatant lies fuel her anger. He is _not_ sorry. And it wouldn’t it have been like this anyway? Even if she relented, he would have still done this—pulled Catra away from her, just to see her suffer.

“Now. Are you ready to cooperate?” He asks, mimicking the narrative that Shadow Weaver constructed for all of those years—that Catra and Adora were nothing but weaknesses for each other.

But what both Shadow Weaver and Prime have failed to realize is that neither of them can be weaponized. Used as tools to hurt and destroy each other.

Catra is her _strength_. Adora clings to her tighter. Her breath has just gone still. Skin cold. Heartbeat unheard for a moment too long.

It is the final straw.

Adora gives in then. Let’s that feeling—that power she felt the inklings of so many months ago, wash over her. Of their own accord, her arm rises and her voice shouts, “For the Honor of Grayskull!”

A sensation both old and new breaks through her—she channels this reignited strength and rises to her feet, hoisting Catra up with her. She looks tentatively at her girlfriend—who has given no indication of pain at being jostled before turning her attention to the clones ahead of her.

Striking them down is easy, like cutting through water. She doesn’t even need to _think_. Her body is on autopilot, magic she didn’t even know she was capable of wielding comes to her like a second skin.

She sees Prime reanimate himself in the final clone. And that is fine by her so long as it is not Catra.

“You miscalculated,” She sneers before delivering the final blow. It is only a fraction of her rage, but she needs to focus on getting them to the ship above all else right now.

* * *

Glimmer and Bow’s joy at seeing She-Ra in her _new_ form does not last long. Now Glimmer knows how they must’ve felt when they were able to rescue her— a surge grateful victory crushed by the heavy undercurrent of potential loss.

The loss looks more permanent than _potential_ right now, Glimmer thinks as She-Ra hands Catra over to Bow.

But holy fuck, it _hardly_ looks like her. The white uniform. The hair. The lack of _life._

“What did he do?” Glimmer grits out, barely concealing her fury—more clones descend on them. She’s ready to fight them all, to take them all out and make them suffer when Bow gives her a pointed stare.

“Let She-Ra handle it. We need to get her onto the ship.” His voice is calming, leaving no room for argument. And oh, how badly does she want to argue. How can he ask her to just—just walk away, and let them get away with what they’ve made of Catra? _Her_ sister?

But…she promised. She would listen to Bow. Try to be less reckless. And clearly, this new She-Ra has it handled.

So they run to the ship, only making it a few feet inside before Glimmer notices the quiver in Bow’s legs too. He places her so carefully on the floor, eyes trained on her face to register any sign of discomfort. Glimmer recognizes he is just as not-okay as she is right now. There’s comfort in knowing she isn’t alone.

“Why-why isn’t she breathing?” Glimmer feels her own breath become ragged, harsh. “Catra? Catra!”

Glimmer makes a move to grab her, to shake her-to do _anything_ that will get a reaction from her, but Bow stops her in her tracks. He shakes his head solemnly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Moving her right now is a bad idea.

She brings her hand to her mouth, trying to conceal her sobs but it feels impossible. It feels like it takes forever for She-Ra to return to the ship, to override Darla’s commands and get them the hell out of here.

This is all her fault. This is _all_ her fault. If Catra doesn’t come back from this—Glimmer will never forgive herself. She’ll never be able to look at herself again. She-

The only thing that anchors her in this moment, when her train of thoughts threaten to derail into straight hysteria is Bow’s comforting touch. They look up to Adora, towering over them as She-Ra with a solemn stare before she falls to her knees next to Catra.

Glimmer feels like a child. Feels like she is small and afraid and vulnerable and waiting for someone with actual power to fix things. To make everything better. She pours all of the hope she can muster into She-Ra, Adora, her _best friend_ and hope that it is enough.

Adora is enough—that’s what Catra said. Catra said it so this has to _work_ because now Adora has all of the power of She-Ra, too.

“Come on, Catra. You’re not finished. Not yet.” Adora presses their heads together, tears streaming down her face, “We’re going home.”

The ever-bright golden glow envelops them once again. Adora believes with all of her might that this will work. This will be enough. She imagines their home—the different shapes it’s taken over the years. First the Fright Zone, now Bright Moon. Their comfy little corner of the castle, the beautiful spire Catra had shown her one autumn afternoon. The bed they share. She pours out her hope for the future, knowing that the world around them has irrevocably changed, nothing will ever quite be the same again, but that they can make a home out of anywhere so long as they have each other.

She has Catra again. And she is never letting go.

Not even as She-Ra slips away, leaving only a trail of golden flickering light in her wake. Her heart falls, breaking for what feels like the fifteenth time today when Catra is still as unmoving as she was before.

_No. Please._

Unimpeded, tears fall onto Catra’s face. This can’t be the end—

And then…her nose twitches and she coughs. Her eyes are closed, still, but she shuffles closer to the warmth of Adora’s chest subconsciously. Adora can’t contain her gasp, relief overwhelming her when Catra blinks her eyes open. And…

It’s her. _Really_ her this time.

“Hey…Adora…” Her voice is weak, but it is _hers._ It’s the greeting Adora had been waiting for ever since they parted. It’s all the invitation she needs to pull Catra to her, tucking her head into Adora’s shoulder protectively, much like they had just been on Prime’s ship. Except now she can feel Catra breathe—her body is not limp beneath her, breaths are not stuttered and her heartbeat is not stagnant.

Best of all, Catra melts into the hold. Hugging back with all of her remaining energy. And Adora…Adora is sure she should probably stop crying now, seeing as Catra is here and alive and okay, but she can’t. And that's okay—the moment stretches on for several minutes, just the two of them clinging tightly onto each other.

Glimmer and Bow have tried to busy themselves elsewhere, but suddenly Adora is feeling very exposed. And if _she_ feels exposed, she can’t even fathom how Catra feels.

“Is it okay if I move you?” Adora asks, pulling back to evaluate Catra’s face.

She looks so exhausted, but there is room for skepticism to fall across her face. Her brow arches as if to say, _how can you even carry me right now?_

It isn’t a challenge, it comes more from a place of concern, but _hooh_ boy does Adora take it as one. She-Ra healed them both and any soreness in her body is overpowered by the desire to have a private moment to themselves.

Lifting both of them off of the floor does not prove to be much of a challenge, anyway. Adora realizes with a frown that Catra is much lighter than before. She’s still clinging to Adora like a lifeline, gasping slightly at the ease with which Adora was able to maneuver them. 

Catra doesn’t protest to being manhandled, she only buries her face into Adora’s neck as she carries her into the hallway. Adora feels her own heart skip a beat affectionately, hands curling tighter around their place on Catra’s legs and lower back. Not too tight, though. The last thing Adora can handle right now is causing Catra anymore pain.

Ghosts of Prime’s taunts come flickering into Adora’s mind. But she snuffs the thoughts out. She’ll focus on those later. Right now, Catra needs her.

There is a question, an insecurity that has been gnawing away at Adora since they first boarded Darla’s ship. She always told herself she’d worry about it if— _when_ the time came. But…at long last, the time has come. For better or for worse.

“Catra?” She calls out, voice gentle as they make their way down the hallway. All she gets in response is a small _hm_ , but Adora stops walking. The sudden stop prompts Catra to look up at her again, blinking with confusion. “I packed…some, uh, stuff for you. In my room. The bed is big enough for the both of us, but we set up an extra room just in case...you needed some space.”

The nature of their relationship felt very up in the air to Adora, especially when planning for this journey. She was certain Catra would break up with her after their fight—old insecurities ringing around her brain like they never left. She didn’t want to kid herself into thinking that rescuing Catra from Prime would change that. And now...after everything that’s just happened, it doesn’t seem like Catra is interested in having any space between the two of them but Adora just needs to make sure.

“I just want you to be comfortable. Whatever you need. If you want to stay with me, or I can bring you to the other-” Adora rambles on, Catra’s claws tightening against her chest at the thought of being alone. But it’s important for Adora to stress this, to emphasize that Catra has a choice. “I’m here either way. I-whatever you need, Catra.”

“I need you,” The response is immediate, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Adora’s heart pangs at the admission-so simple yet powerful. Catra must mistake her silence for uncertainty, scrambling to say, “Please, I can’t-”

“You have me,” Adora assures quickly, hugging her closer to her chest. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a bit awkward to flick the light on in their room, but the door shuts behind them quickly. Adora eyes the bed, she may have remade it once or twice after sleeping so restlessly. Okay, maybe three times. No more than four. “Gonna put you down now, okay?”

But Catra doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, shaking her head and burying it further into Adora’s shoulder, “Don’t. Don’t let go.”

Adora sits down on the bed, Catra still firmly in her lap. “I won’t. I’m staying right here. You’re safe now.”

She’ll give Catra whatever she needs, and if what she needs is to be held for a few more minutes, that is well within Adora’s realm of capabilities.

It’s comforting, feeling Catra warm and safe in her arms. Inhaling deeply, Adora smells something sterile and chemical-like in nature. _Prime_. She doesn’t know what the nature of the scent is, only that he must’ve had something to do with it. It takes everything she has left in her to push through the wave of nausea that rolls through her.

Choosing to focus on the relief of just having Catra back, she exhales a shaky breath and closes her eyes. She rests her head on top of Catra’s and rubs soothing circles on her back. 

There is definitely no rush to move but she wonders how comfortable Catra can really be, curled into such a tight ball against her. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll get you some water and fresh clothes and we can lay down, alright?”

Catra goes rigid at… _something_ Adora has said, she isn’t quite certain what. But suddenly, Catra is pulling away from her, off the bed and scrambling to her feet, claws extended and ready to tear until Adora catches her wrists. Catra resists, trying to break free of the hold.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Adora tries to calm her, despite her own stomach lurching at the sudden movement, “What do you need?”

“Off—I need these off, _now_ ,” Catra grits out. Adora recognizes the signs, she knows panic is coming. “Now-”

“Can I help you?” Adora asks. It’s a counterintuitive question. Catra can’t do much with Adora’s vice grip around her wrists. She doesn’t want to restrict her, but she’s afraid Catra may accidentally hurt herself in this panicked state. She also wants to make sure she has Catra’s explicit consent. Prime took away her autonomy entirely, Adora needs to make sure she doesn’t come _close_ to that level of violation. If Catra wants to do it herself, she’ll let her.

Catra just nods frantically, fresh tears springing to her eyes, “Get them off.”

Adora makes quick work of angling herself behind Catra, ripping off the stupid cape, finding the zipper and tugging it downwards. Dutifully, Adora tries to keep her gaze… _not_ on Catra, but it’s a little difficult to do when helping her out of the one piece.

She grabs the sleep shirt and shorts she had at the ready and hands them to Catra. Luckily the room is small enough for Adora to grab the pile of clothing and toss it out of the door without straying too far from Catra. It is hurried and not graceful by any means, but she makes it work.

The stupid chip mocks Adora as Catra finishes putting her shirt on. They’ll have to work with Entrapta on getting it removed, but that’s an issue for later. Catra looks a little shaky on her feet, so Adora guides her to sit back on the bed.

“Thirsty?” Adora asks. But Catra shakes her head, denying the offer. Adora bites her lip at that. She doesn’t want to ask when the last time Catra even ate was, fearful of what memories that could trigger. “I think you need to drink something, Catra.”

Catra looks hesitant but doesn’t protest. She’s so…uncharacteristically quiet. It’s unsettling. Adora’s stomach flips dangerously.

Ugh. She can’t be selfish right now.

“I’ll be right back. I promise. I’m just running to the kitchen, it’s just down the hall.” She explains, but Catra just looks resigned. Like she couldn’t stop Adora if she tried. It’s such a far cry from her usual fire, Adora swallows thickly. She bounds out of the room, picking up the discarded uniform and chucking it into the trash bin and. Phew—she does _not_ feel great.

 _Focus._ _Water. Catra._ She reminds herself dutifully. _Catra_ —her that feeling in her stomach worsens without Catra in sight, even if it’s been no more than a few seconds. She grips the counter of their little kitchen to steady herself for a second.

Catra. _I had to purge it from her thrice over._ Green, glowing eyes. _Perhaps I will make her my new vessel._ Her humorless cackle at her own pain. _There is nothing left for you to give up on._

Catra suffered. Catra suffered so much, Adora feels dizzy with the knowledge. She only has a moment to direct her body over the trash bin before she gets sick herself. Catra suffered because of _her_.

And now—now, Adora realizes a bit hysterically, she’s too busy thinking about herself to get back to Catra. _Get it together._ She reprimands herself, rinses her mouth quickly with water and then grabs a bottle for herself and for Catra.

She bounds back to their room, the tightness of her body uncoiling at the sight of Catra in their room. “Here,” she hands Catra the bottle, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. The clumsiness earns her the smallest of smiles, but it makes Adora feel like she’s won a gold medal. She lets Catra drink it, eyeing her for a moment to make sure she’s steady, before turning to get changed.

Catra catches her hand and stops her from pulling away. Adora blinks down at her in confusion, about to explain that she’s just getting changed, but Catra reaches up—brows pinched in worry and swipes a tear off of Adora’s cheek.

 _Huh_. She didn’t even realize she’d been crying, it must’ve happened when she was in the kitchen. Catra is blinking up at her in silent concern. It’s kind of funny. “This isn’t the first time I’ve cried today.” She tries to joke and Catra just frowns in response, sensing this time must be different. But Adora is fine. It was a one-off thing and besides, what is she supposed to say? That Catra’s pain has made her physically sick? She can’t be so selfish right now.

In an attempt to reassure her, Adora presses a kiss to her palm, only half nervous of the reaction she’ll receive, and offers a small smile, “I’m fine. I’m going to get changed, okay?”

Catra flushes but nods, dropping her hand and turns her attention back to the water bottle. 

In the Horde, efficiency was something that could be measured down to how fast you get dressed in the morning—so needless to say, it only takes Adora seconds before she gets into the bed.

It’s smaller than the one they share in Bright Moon, but bigger than their Horde bunks. Before settling in, she asks, “Can I hold you?”

Catra doesn’t ordinarily have much patience for questions. But she just nods and lets Adora pull them backwards until they’re laying down.

“Let me know if this isn’t comfortable,” She requests, even though it’s a position they’ve found themselves in countless times, with Catra settled against Adora’s chest.

It’s different now, though. Catra’s hair is gone, Adora didn’t realize how much space it took up until it was gone. She looks so _small_ in the darkness of their bedroom. Adora fears she may actually get sick again, if she didn’t have visual confirmation that Catra was okay.

It takes only a second for Catra to _latch_ onto Adora. Grip harsh and unrelenting, tugging on the thin fabric of her sleep shirt. Adora’s hands find Catra’s back, running her hands up and down the length of it, hoping to settle her a bit.

“How are you feeling?” She whispers despite knowing the answer.

“Hurts,” Catra responds. Before she can be prodded for clarification she adds, “Everything hurts.”

“I know. I got you. I’m here, Catra. You’re safe now.” Adora’s arms tighten their hold as Catra begins to shake. She has a feeling she won’t be sleeping much tonight. Which is just fine, honestly. She’ll be awake as long as she needs if it means she can help Catra.

 _“I do not know these people.”_ Catra’s voice, hollow and under Prime’s influence, echoes in Adora’s mind and she is struck by a horrible fear.

“Catra? Can I ask you something?” Adora doesn’t know if now is the best time, but she needs to know what they’re working with here. Clearly Prime isn’t in control anymore, but that doesn’t mean…

Catra murmurs a response so quietly that Adora only catches the latter half of it, “...s’all you’ve been doing.”

Adora lets out the smallest scoff at that, a smile playing at her face. She was bound to hit the limits of Catra’s patience eventually. And it’s sort of a relief to know that Catra hasn’t become completely compliant.

“Do you...do you remember them?” Adora bites her lip, halting the movement of her hands. Unsure if specifying _them_ is a good idea, especially if Catra doesn’t remember. She hears her breath catch and pulls back to get a better look at her face.

Adora had been so certain that Micah or Angella would be their only hope at getting through to Catra. Maybe Prime knew that too. Maybe that’s why he wiped them from her memory.

“...Yeah.” Catra confirms, voice hollow. She keeps averting Adora’s inquiring gaze, tightening the grip on her shirt. The fabric must certainly be ripped by now. “I remember.”

It’s all Adora needs to know. She’s nearly thankful for the confirmation that Prime was not able to permanently rip away the family Catra has worked so hard for--until she feels hot tears on her chest. 

“Shh, shh,” Adora says, not to silence but to comfort, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

She repositions her arms so one is across Catra’s shoulders and the other is cradling her head, hand resting on her jaw. Catra makes some sort of noise, but it’s so muffled that Adora can’t quite discern it. “What was that?”

Catra shifts, hiding her face in Adora’s neck, not wanting to be seen. But her mouth is closer to Adora’s ear when she repeats her question, “Do they hate me?”

And _oh_ does that hurt to hear. The shame and guilt so prevalent in Catra’s voice. She hasn’t even done anything _wrong_ to warrant any level of dislike from her parents. It was all Prime. Adora has half the mind to tell her that, but it’s not really what Catra is asking for right now. She’s seeking comfort, not to be told she doesn’t need it in the first place.

“Of course not, Catra.” She says earnestly. Her words come off louder than she intended, fiercer than expected, “They missed you so much. They love you so much.” 

She feels Catra shakes her head like she’s denying the fact, “It’s true. I do too. Love you so much. Nothing is going to change that.”

Catra cries even harder, Adora doesn’t try to stop the tears. Just tries to soothe her through them, remind her that she isn’t alone, that she’s okay. She’s safe now.

What did Prime do to her to convince her that Angella and Micah hating her is even a possibility? Adora is going to tear him to shreds. That hideous bastard has no idea what’s coming for him-

She doesn’t realize she’s even said this out loud until Catra laughs quietly beneath her. It may just be the greatest sound Adora has ever heard.

That is, until, Catra nuzzles in close to Adora’s ear and whispers a quiet confession. One Adora never thought she’d hear—she’d never heard it before, no matter the circumstance of their reunion.

“Missed you.”

 _Fuck_. Adora had been so certain she was out of tears until she hears those two words.

“I missed you too. So much.” She presses a kiss to Catra’s head to assure her the notion is incredibly mutual.

They still have a lot to talk about, plenty of conversations to work through. But those can most certainly wait.

* * *

“Okay. So Seahawk, Perfuma, Scorpia and I will head to the Enchanted Grotto and see if Prince Peekablue can get a message to Adora,” Mermista explains to the group, “Angella, Casta and Swift Wind will wait here for Netossa, Spinnerella, Micah and Frosta to get back from Elberon. We should be back by the end of tomorrow—”

“Actually, I’ve decided to join you,” Angella interrupts.

“What?” Scorpia doubles back, “But you never go on missions?”

Angella turns to her, stare silent and eyebrow raised.

Perfuma jumps in hastily, “What Scorpia means to say is, we just assumed you would wait here for Micah to get back and make sure that Shadow Weaver isn’t…up to anything.”

“Yeah, won’t Micah have a heart attack if you’re not here when he gets back?” Mermista crosses her arms.

“Casta has Shadow Weaver well-restrained and I assure you, my husband will understand,” Angella dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. “Besides, I am the most familiar with Prince Peekablue. I may be able to sway him to assist us.”

“But, holding down the fort is sort of…your thing,” Mermista points out. The whole reason they were doing this was to try to help Angella and Micah, not give them more work.

“Perhaps it was. Before my daughters had been abducted by an intergalactic emperor,” Angella bites, “I trust my accompaniment won’t be a burden, will it?”

They all exchange nervous glances, Perfuma making a silent gesture for Mermista to relent. This isn’t a conversation they’re going to win. And this is the first time Angella has left her tent since...since the whole clone thing, anyway. Maybe this could be a good thing for all of them.

“Fine, if you really want to listen to Seahawk’s stupid shanties, I won’t stop you—”

“Perfect.” Angella gives them a thinly veiled smile before exiting the tent, “Rest well everyone.” 

She looks up toward the night sky. It has been days since they’ve heard from Prime. She isn’t sure if that’s a good thing, or a very bad one. 

All she is certain of is that she is done playing it safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe.....now that we're all hurt......we can all be comforted :,)
> 
> on a serious note- while there is more angst ahead, this chapter is definitley the pinnacle of it. so things will def be a little lighter going forward!
> 
> fun fact- I make a conscious choice to never consume media properly, so Save the Cat is the first episode of spop I ever watched and let me just say it was a wildly confusing place to start 
> 
> & I could never figure out why it stuck with me so hard....until noelle did an interview and shared about the connections to religious trauma throughout the episode ... then it all came together :,)


End file.
